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FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY 

YEARS AGO 


BOOKS BY NINA RHOADES 

MARION’S VACATION. Illustrated. Cloth. $1.75 
DOROTHY BROWN. Illustrated. Cloth. $1.75 
VICTORINE’S BOOK. Illustrated. Cloth. $1.75 
THE GIRL FROM ARIZONA. Illustrated. $1.75 
THE INDEPENDENCE OF NAN. Illustrated. $1.75 


FOR YOUNGER READERS 

“The Brick House Books” 

The sigrht of the brick house on the cover makes girl 
readers happy at once. — Indianapolis News. 

Illustrated. Large 12mo. Cloth. $1.50 each. 

ONLY DOLLIE 

THE LITTLE GIRL NEXT DOOR 

WINIFRED’S NEIGHBORS 

THE CHILDREN ON THE TOP FLOOR 

HOW BARBARA KEPT HER PROMISE 

LITTLE MISS ROSAMOND 

PRISCILLA OF THE DOLL SHOP 

BRAVE LITTLE PEGGY 

THE OTHER SYLVIA 

MAISIE’S MERRY CHRISTMAS 

LITTLE QUEEN ESTHER 

MAKING MARY LIZZIE HAPPY 

A REAL CINDERELLA 

NORA’S TWIN SISTER 

FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 

BOSTON 


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“ I THINK YOU ARE THE MOST WONDERFUL PERSON I EVER HEARD 
OF,” DECLARED DuLciE. — Page 87. 


Four Girls of Forty 
Years Ago 


BY 


NINA RHOADES 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

ELEANOR R. WEEDEN 





BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO, 


Published, August, 1920 


/ 



Copyright, 1920, 

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 

All Rights Reserved 

Four Girls of Forty Years Ago 


IRorwooD lprc09 
BERWICK & SMITH CO. 
Norwood, Mass. 

U. S. A. 


\ 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. 

The Four Little Winslows 


PAGE 

9 

11. 

A Visitor .... 


. 25 

III. 

A Wonderful Day . 


. 39 

IV. 

The Singing Lady 


• 54 

V. 

Miss Polly’s Story . 


. 71 

VI. 

Paul 


. 91 

VII. 

The Stolen Child 


. 104 

VIII. 

The House on Avenue A . 


. 119 

IX. 

Miss Polly’s Piano . 


. 133 

X. 

Dulcie’s Birthday 


. 147 

XI. 

Paul Entertains Miss Polly 


. 164 

XII. 

Daisy Writes a Letter 


. 178 

XIII. 

Decoration Day 


. 193 

XIV. 

Mrs. Winslow Gets a Telegram 

. 214 

XV. 

Dulcie Takes the Helm . 


. 228 

XVI. 

Looking for a Situation . 


. 241 

XVII. 

Stepmothers 


. 258 

XVIII. 

A Home-Coming 


• 270 


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ILLUSTRATIONS 


“I think you are the most wonderful per- 
son I ever heard of” declared Dulcie 
(Page 87) ...... Frontispiece^ 

Facing Page 

The door swung open so quietly and easily that 

she nearly fell over backward . . . . 62^ 

“She’s got the big fellow down. She’s sittin' 

on his head” ’ . 128^ 


Daisy took the two letters, flew down-stairs, and 
out into the street 


190 


“We’re — we’re looking for a situation ” . . . 258^ 

“ Do we say ‘ How do you do, stepmother ? * ” 

Maud wanted to know 274 


7 



Four Girls of Forty Years Ago 

CHAPTER I 

THE FOUR LITTLE WINSLOWS 



,HEY all lived in the big front room on the 


top floor of Grandpa Winslow’s old-fash- 


ioned house near Washington Square. 
They had lived there for so long that Molly and 
Maud — who were only nine and seven — could not 
remember ever having lived anywhere else. But 
Dulcie — who was nearly twelve — and Daisy — who 
was ten and a half — had dim memories of a very 
different home — a home that was always bright and 
happy, and in which the grim figures of Grandma 
Winslow and her daughter, Aunt Kate, played no 


part. 


It was more than five years since their father 
had brought his four little motherless girls from the 
Western town where they were born, to the stately, 
gloomy old house near Washington Square. It had 
seemed to Mr. Winslow the wisest thing to do, for 
he was young and inexperienced, and the death of 
his pretty young wife had almost broken his heart. 
With the exception of his father, who was very old 


9 


lO FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


and infirm, and his stepmother, whom he had never 
loved very much, he had no near relatives, and so 
when his father had written in his trembling old 
hand, offering a home to him and his four little girls, 
he had accepted the offer, and they had left the 
Western home, where they had been so happy, and 
taken the long journey to New York, accompanied 
by Lizzie, the faithful servant, who had formerly 
been maid-of-all-work, but now acted as the chil- 
dren’s nurse. 

That was five years ago, and many things had 
happened since then. In the first place, their father 
had been in China for more than a year. Young 
Jim Winslow, as every one called him, had not found 
it easy to make a living in New York, and he had 
ended by accepting the offer of a friend in China, 
who' promised him a good position in his business. 
And one sad day, he had kissed his little girls good- 
bye and gone away. How they had all cried, for 
though Papa tried to be very cheerful, they felt quite 
sure that this going away was different from any 
other. 

“ When Papa went to The Centennial in Philadel- 
phia, he only stayed away a week,” Daisy had re- 
minded them, with a great effort to be cheerful, 
“ and he brought us all home something. I sup- 
pose China is a great deal farther away than Phila- 
delphia.” 

“ Of course it is,” said Dulcie, with difficulty sup- 


THE FOUR LITTLE WINSLOWS 


II 


pressing a sob ; “ it's away the other side of the 
world. But he says we must all be good till he 
comes back, so we'll have to try very hard." 

We've got Lizzie, anyhow," chimed in Molly. 
‘‘ She won't ever go away ; she promised Papa she 
wouldn't leave us till he came back." 

That was a comforting thought, and as Lizzie had 
come into the nursery at that moment, they had all 
run to her, and she soon had Molly and Maud in her 
lap, while Dulcie and Daisy sat on the arms of her 
chair, for next to their father, they all loved Lizzie 
better than any one in the world. 

But alas! When Lizzie had promised not to 
leave the children, she had not counted on her 
temper. She loved the little girls dearly, but she 
had never learned to control her quick temper, and 
in less than a month from the day of Mr. Winslow's 
departure, she had been dismissed by Grandma for 
having used what that lady called outrageously 
impertinent language." That was a dreadful day 
for the children, even more dreadful than the one 
on which their father left for China. Their father 
had occasionally left them for a short time before, 
but never, never since their mother's death, had 
Lizzie been absent for a single night. 

‘‘ Who’ll put us to bed ? ” wailed Maud, “ and 
give us our baths, and hear us say our prayers? 
Oh ! oh ! I want to go away with Lizzie. I don’t 
want to stay here any more — I don't, I don't ! " 


12 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

"Hush, Maudie, don’t cry so,” soothed Dulcie, 
who was crying herself. " Til hear your prayers. 
Fm ’most twelve, so I guess it will be all right, and 
Daisy and I can take our own baths, so I guess we 
can teach you and Molly to do it, too. But, oh, 
Lizzie, Lizzie, I do want you so much ! ” And poor 
Dulcie broke down utterly, and sobbed as if her 
heart would break. 

The next important event was Grandpa’s death. 
This, though sad, was not the heart-break to the 
children that Lizzie’s departure had been. Grandpa 
was very feeble, and for several years had taken 
small notice of them, except to nod and smile kindly 
at them, when they came into his room, and ask 
them their names, which he never seemed able to 
remember from one day to another. Lizzie had 
once told them that Grandpa was losing his mind, 
and that they must always be very kind and polite 
to him, and they had looked upon the old gentleman 
with a kind of awe, which had been greatly in- 
creased when, one morning, Mary, the chamber- 
maid, had come into the nursery to tell them in a 
whisper that “ their dear grandpa ” had died sud- 
denly during the night. 

But all these things had happened nearly a year 
before the rainy January afternoon on which this 
story begins. It had been a very stormy day, and 
as Miss Hammond, the prim daily governess, who 
came for three hours every morning, was laid up 


THE FOUR LITTLE WINSLOWS 


13 


with a bad cold, there had not even been lessons to 
break the monotony, and time had hung rather 
heavily on the children’s hands. Even the usual 
diversion of luncheon with their elders had been 
denied them, for Aunt Kate had given a luncheon 
party, and, according to the Winslow code, little 
girls were expected to keep out of the way on all 
such occasions. So Mary had brought them each 
a bowl of bread and milk, that being less trouble 
than anything else, and although bread and milk is 
nourishing, it is not what Dulcie called ‘‘ exciting,” 
and by four o’clock they were all feeling decidedly 
bored, and more than a little hungry. 

Dulcie had read till her eyes ached; Daisy had 
completed a whole spring outfit for Maud’s doll, and 
Molly and Maud had played so many games of 
lotto that Molly declared crossly she was sure she 
could play lotto in her sleep. 

“If only it didn’t pour so. I’d go round to the 
library for another book,” remarked Dulcie, with a 
yawn. 

Dulcie cared more about reading than about al- 
most anything else in the world. She read every- 
thing she could lay her hands on, and when her 
father went away to China, he had given her a 
ticket to the circulating library, which was only three 
blocks away. 

“ I wish things happened to real people the way 
they do to people in books,” said Molly. If we 


14 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


were in a book, something interesting would be sure 
to happen to us this afternoon. We’ve been in the 
house all day, and only had bread and milk for 
lunch.” 

“ Something rather interesting is going to happen 
now,” said Daisy, who had been looking out of the 
window for the past five minutes. “ The Van Ars- 
dales across the street are going to have a party. 
There’s an awning, and the ice-cream wagon has 
just stopped there. We can watch the carriages 
come, and if they happen to leave one of the parlor 
shades up, the way they did that other time, we can 
see them dance.” 

Mollie and Maud looked interested, but Dulcie 
sighed. 

“ I don’t see much fun in watching a party you 
can’t go to yourself,” she said, discontentedly. “If 
Grandma would only let us know some of the neigh- 
bors, we might be invited to places sometimes. I 
wonder how it would feel to have a party.” 

“ I don’t think I should like it much,” said Daisy. 
“ Things might go wrong, and that would be so em- 
barrassing. You remember the time those Leroy 
children came to see us, and Grandma called out we 
were making too much noise. I think I’d rather go 
to other people’s parties, especially while we have to 
live with Grandma and Aunt Kate.” 

Dulcie sighed again. 

“If only Papa would come home,” she said. 


THE FOUR LITTLE WINSLOWS 1 $ 

“ Things weren't half so bad when he was 
here." 

He is coming home next year," put in Daisy, 
cheerfully. Daisy always looked on the bright side 
of things. “ You know what he said in his last 
letter, about our all having a nice little home to- 
gether. Perhaps Lizzie will come back then, too. 
Wouldn't that be lovely?" 

‘‘ Mary told the butcher-man that Lizzie is going 
to be married," announced Maud. ‘‘ I heard her 
yesterday when I was in the kitchen, playing with 
the kitty." 

I don't believe it," declared Molly, indignantly. 

Lizzie never told Mary things ; she said she was 
an old gossip." 

“ Well, Mary said it, anyhow," persisted Maud. 
‘‘ She told the butcher-man, and he said " 

“ Oh, children, don't argue," interrupted peace- 
loving Daisy. “Come here and watch for the party. 
I guess the carriages will begin to come pretty 
soon." 

“ They had ice-cream for lunch down-stairs," ex- 
claimed Molly, with a sudden recollection. “ I won- 
der if there's any left! " 

“If there were we wouldn't get any,” said Dulcie. 
“ Mary and Bridget would be sure to eat it all up.” 

“If Grandma were like a grandmother in a book, 
she'd see that we had ice-cream, and lots of other 
nice things," remarked Molly, reflectively. “ Book 


1 6 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

grandmothers are always so nice. I wonder why 
real ones aren’t ? ” 

'' I guess real ones are, too,” said Daisy. “That’s 
just the trouble with us. Grandma isn’t our real 
grandmother; she’s only a step, and steps are never 
any good. Even Aunt Kate isn’t our real aunt, be- 
cause Grandpa was only her stepfather.” 

“ Steps are pretty bad,” remarked Dulcie, “ but 
the worst of all is a stepmother, and, thank goodness, 
we haven’t got that. If I thought we were ever 
going to have a stepmother. I’d — I’d do something 
awful.” 

“ What would you do ? ” inquired Molly, eagerly. 

“ I don’t know, I haven’t made up my mind yet, 
but I’ve often thought about it. I’m sure it won’t 
happen, though ; Papa is much too kind to do any- 
thing so dreadful, but if it did, well — don’t let’s talk 
about it.” Dulcie’s dark little face had grown sud- 
denly very stern and determined, and her sivSters re- 
garded her with something like awe. Although 
only a little more than a year older than Daisy, 
Dulcie had always been looked up to by the younger 
children as a superior being. In the first place, she 
was the only one of them who could remember 
Mamma, and then she was so very clever. Dulcie 
always knew her lessons, and moreover, she really 
liked to study. Even Miss Hammond, strictest of 
teachers, never had any complaints to make against 
Dulcie; and Daisy had once overheard Aunt Kate 


THE FOUR LITTLE WINSLOWS 17 

telling a visitor that “the eldest child was really 
remarkably bright, and took after her dear grand- 
father/' Now, the children all knew that Grandpa 
Winslow had been a great man in his day, and to 
hear that one of them was supposed to resemble him 
was a most v^ronderful compliment, especially from 
Aunt Kate, who seldom said pleasant things about 
any one. So perhaps Dulcie may be pardoned for 
being a trifle conceited, and conscious of her own 
importance. 

“ Here comes the first carriage,” announced 
Daisy, from her post at the window. 

All the others hurried to get a glimpse of the first 
arrivals at the party. The carriage door was opened 
by a man in livery, and several figures were hustled 
up the Van Arsdales' front steps, under the awning. 
Another and another carriage followed, and the 
next ten minutes were — according to Daisy — 
“ really quite exciting.” But watching the arrival 
of guests at a party to which one has not been in- 
vited, is not, after all, a very thrilling amusement, 
and by the time the sixth carriage had deposited its 
freight, and rolled away, even Daisy's enthusiasm 
had begun to cool. 

“ How hard it rains,” said Molly, flattening her 
nose against the window-pane. “ I wonder if the 
stolen child is out in all this storm.” 

“Of course she is,” said Dulcie in a tone of con- 
viction. “ She's been out all day with her basket, 


l8 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


and she’s wet through and so cold and hungry. 
But her basket isn’t full yet, and she doesn’t dare 
go home, for fear that dreadful woman will beat 
her.” 

Dulcie gave a little shiver, and glanced from the 
window back to the warm, comfortable room. 

‘‘ It’s terribly sad,” said Daisy, with a sigh. I 
do wish we could help her find her family. If we 
could only get acquainted with her, we might be 
able to find out how she was stolen. They always 
remember something, you know, even if it’s hap- 
pened when they were very little.” 

Let’s make up some more about her,” said 
Molly. Come and sit close to the register, it’s so 
nice and warm. It’s nicer to talk about things like 
that when you’re very comfortable.” 

‘"All right,” agreed Dulcie, and they all four 
gathered round the register, where the hot air from 
the furnace puffed in their faces. 

“ You begin, Dulcie,” commanded Daisy. “ You 
make up so much better than we do. Tell what’s 
going to happen when she gets home to-night.” 

‘‘ Well,” began Dulcie, her eyes growing big and 
dreamy, as they always did when she ‘‘ made up 
things.” ‘‘ It will be quite dark before she dares to 
go home, and she will be so tired that she can hardly 
drag herself up the long flight of stairs, to that dirty 
garret. There won’t be any fire because the wicked 
old woman will be drunk again. She’ll be asleep on 


THE FOUR LITTLE WINSLOWS 


19 


a pile of rags, snoring very loud, and the stolen child 
will be afraid to wake her. So she'll put down her 
basket, and creep away into a corner, and sit there 
shivering, and trying to keep her teeth from chatter- 
ing. But by and by she'll remember the little prayer 
her mother taught her, and after that she won't be 

quite so unhappy, and Why, Maud, what is 

the matter — whatever are you crying about ? " 

I — I don't like it," sobbed Maud, the tender- 
hearted, flinging herself upon Dulcie's lap. “ I 
don't want the poor little girl to be so cold and hun- 
gry." And the sobs changed to a wail. 

“ Oh, hush, lovey, don’t cry like that," pleaded 
Daisy, soothing and petting her little sister, while 
Dulcie added in hasty explanation: 

“ Don’t be such a baby, Maud. It's only a story 
I'm making up. We don't really know anything 
about the little girl at all." 

“ But you said — you said she was so cold and so 
hungry," wailed Maud, and I don't like to hear 
about people being cold and hungry." 

“ Oh, Maud, do stop," protested Molly. “ If you 
cry so loud. Grandma will hear, and think how she'll 
scold." 

But Maud's feelings were not so easily soothed, 
and she continued to sob, and to declare over and 
over again that she didn't like sad stories — she didn’t 
want to hear about the stolen child — until the other 
three were at their wits’ end. 


20 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Maud,” exclaimed 
Daisy, with a sudden inspiration. “If you’ll stop 
crying, I’ll go down to the kitchen and see if 
there isn’t some ice-cream left. If there is. 
I’ll coax Bridget to let me have some, and 
you shall eat every bit of it, because you’re the 
youngest.” 

Maud stopped short in the middle of a wail. 

“ Will you really? ” she inquired doubtfully. 

“ Yes, I will,” promised Daisy. “ Now wipe your 
eyes, like a good girl. Where’s your handkerchief ? 
Oh, you haven’t got one. Well, never mind, here’s 
mine. There, that’s all right. You won’t cry any 
more, will you ? ” 

“Suppose there isn’t any ice-cream left?” sug- 
gested Maud, still doubtfully. 

“ Well, there’s sure to be some cake left, any- 
how, and I’m sure Bridget will give me a piece for 
you. Now keep still, and I’ll be back just as quick 
as I can.” 

Maud was mollified and Daisy ran quickly down 
the four flights of stairs to the basement without 
meeting any one by the way. She tiptoed past 
Grandma’s door, which was fortunately closed, or 
she would probably have been stopped and ques- 
tioned. Arrived at the kitchen, she found Bridget 
and Mary both taking afternoon tea. They were 
sitting at the kitchen table, and between them was a 
dish containing several tempting little frosted cakes. 


THE FOUR LITTLE WINSLOWS 


21 


At Daisy's entrance they both looked up, and Mary 
inquired rather sharply: 

‘'Now what in the world are you after down here 
at this time of day ? Did your grandma send you ? " 

“ No," said Daisy, pausing in the doorway, “ no- 
body sent me. I just came to ask if there was any 
ice-cream left. I don't want much, only a little 
for Maud. Dulcie told a story that made her cry, 
and I promised to bring her something to eat if I 
could. She loves ice-cream, and I thought per- 
haps " Daisy paused in some embarrass- 

ment. 

Both the maids laughed, and Bridget — who was 
generally good-natured — pushed back her chair from 
the table. 

“ There isn't very much left," she said. “ I was 
keeping it for our supper, but I suppose you may as 
well have it." 

“ Oh, thank you," cried Daisy, gratefully ; 
“ you're very kind. I'm sorry to take it away from 
you and Mary, but Maud is so unhappy. I'm 
sure the ice-cream will make her feel cheerful 
again." 

Bridget retired to the ice-box, from whence she 
presently returned with a well-filled saucer of pink 
ice-cream. 

“ It's too bad there isn’t enough for you all," she 
said, kindly, “but the madame’s that stingy, she 
never will order more than just enough to go round. 


22 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

You can have a couple of these cakes, anyhow, and 
that’ll be better than nothing.” 

Daisy’s heart beat very fast, as she stole softly 
up-stairs again with her precious burden. She 
reached the second floor in safety, and was just be- 
ginning to breathe more freely, when there came an 
interruption. Grandma’s door opened suddenly, 
and a sharp, querulous voice demanded: 

Who’s that?” 

Daisy’s heart gave a big jump, but she tried to 
speak quite naturally. 

It’s only I, Grandma,” she faltered, and try as 
she might, she could not keep the tremor altogether 
out of her voice. 

Mrs. Winslow stepped out into the hall. 

'‘What is that you are carrying so carefully?” 
she inquired, suspiciously. 

" It’s — it’s just a little ice-cream, and some cakes 
that were left from the lunch party. Bridget gave 
them to me for Maud. Maud was crying over a 
story Dulcie told, and ” 

“ Never mind about explanations,” interrupted 
Grandma, frowning. “ You all know perfectly well 
/hat you are not allowed to eat between meals, or to 
•bring food up-stairs.. Take those things directly 
back to the kitchen. I shall speak to Bridget about 
this to-morrow morning.” 

The tears started to Daisy’s blue eyes. 

** Oh, Grandma,” she pleaded, " please do let us 


THE FOUR LITTLE WINSLOWS 23 

have it, just this once. Maud loves ice-cream so 
much, and she hardly ever has any. You see, it was 
this way: Maud made up a story about a little beggar 
girl we see sometimes. We think she must be a 
stolen child, because she has blue eyes and golden 
hair; stolen children always have in books, and we 
like to make up things about her. This was a very 
sad story, but we didn’t think Maud ” 

“ I am not interested in all that nonsense,” in- 
terrupted Grandma, impatiently. Do as I tell 
you, and never let me hear of your bringing food 
up-stairs again without permission.” 

Daisy’s lip quivered, but she dared not disobey, 
and with a sigh that was half a sob, she turned away, 
and went slowly down-stairs again. When she re- 
turned to the nursery, five minutes later, she was 
relieved to find that Maud had stopped crying, and 
was standing with Molly, eagerly looking out of the 
window. 

They’re beginning to dance,” announced Maud. 
“ The gas is lit in the parlor, and they haven’t pulled 
down one shade.” 

“ I suppose there wasn’t any cream left,” said 
Dulcie in a low voice. In their interest in the Van 
Arsdales’ party, the two younger ones had appar- 
ently forgotten the subject of food. 

‘‘ There was a little,” Daisy admitted, “ and 
Bridget let me have it for Maud, and some cakes, 
too; but on the way up-stairs I met Grandma, and 


24 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

she made me take the things back to the kitchen. 
She said we were forbidden to bring food up here, 
or to eat between meals.” 

Dulcie’s eyes flashed. For a moment she did not 
speak, and then she said, slowly: 

“ I hate Grandma, and some day I’m going to tell 
her so.” 

“ Oh, Dulcie,” gasped Daisy, in horrified re- 
proach, “ you mustn’t say such things. It’s terribly 
wicked to hate people.” 

I know it is,” said Dulcie, “ and I suppose I 
must be a very wicked person. Perhaps I shall 
never go to heaven, but I do hate Grandma just the 
same, and there isn’t any use in pretending I don’t.” 


CHAPTER II 


A VISITOR 

P eople dined earlier in 1880 than they do 
nowadays. The Winslows’ dinner hour was 
six o’clock, and by seven the table had been 
cleared, and the family settled down in the dining- 
room, where they usually spent their evenings. The 
children’s bedtime was eight, and that hour after 
dinner always seemed to them the longest hour of 
the whole day. Mrs. Winslow had a theory that 
families should spend their evenings together, and so 
they were never allowed to wander off and find 
amusements for themselves. She also had another 
theory, that young people should never speak except 
when addressed by their elders, and as neither she 
nor her daughter were at all fond of the society of 
children, the little girls were seldom encouraged to 
join in the conversation. Dulcie had once remarked 
that Grandma only talked when she had something 
to scold about, and Aunt Kate spent a great deal of 
time knitting caps for sailors, and was so busy count- 
ing stitches that she was apt to forget the presence 
of any one else in the room. Aunt Kate was con- 

25 


26 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

sidered among her friends to be a very charitable 
woman. She was on the Board of any number of 
societies for improving the condition of the poor, 
and was constantly attending “ Meetings,” but it 
was seldom that she troubled herself to think of the 
four little girls who lived in the big front room on 
the top floor, and who, if not objects of charity, 
would certainly have been better and happier for a 
little mothering now and then. 

Grandma was very fond of playing solitaire, and 
as soon as the dinner-table was cleared, she generally 
got out the cards, and that meant that she was not 
to be disturbed by any one, even her daughter. 
Dulcie could often find amusement in a book, or 
even in the evening paper, but to the three younger 
ones that hour between dinner and bedtime was de- 
cidedly tiresome. 

On this particular January evening things seemed, 
if possible, even duller than usual. The children 
had been in the house all day, and were, in conse- 
quence, feeling particularly wide awake, and anxious 
for some kind of active exercise. When Aunt Kate 
requested Molly to wind some wool for her, the little 
girl jumped up with such alacrity that she knocked 
over a chair, and received a severe reproof from 
Grandma. 

‘‘ Careless child,” scolded the old lady, looking 
up from her cards with a frown; “ can't you move 
without breaking the furniture ? ” 


A VISITOR 


27 


Molly, who was rather sensitive, blushed scarlet, 
and murmured an apology. But even winding wool 
is more interesting than doing nothing at all, so she 
soon cheered up, and ventured a timid attempt at 
conversation. 

“ It's going to be a pretty cap," she remarked 
politely. “If I were a sailor I think ‘ I should 
like it." 

“ Should you ? " said Miss Kate, sarcastically. 
“ It is rather a pity you are not a sailor, then, 
isn't it? " 

Aunt Kate had a way of saying things in that 
sarcastic tone, and Molly instantly relapsed into em- 
barrassed silence. Dulcie was glancing over the 
front page of the Evening Post, being very careful 
not to rattle the paper, because the rattling of a 
newspaper made Grandma nervous. Maud stifled 
a yawn, and began surreptitiously rubbing her eyes. 
Maud, being the youngest, was sometimes permitted 
to go to bed before her sisters, but to-night Grandma 
was absorbed in her solitaire, and did not notice the 
yawn. Daisy kept her eyes fixed on the clock. 
Twenty minutes to eight. Only twenty more min- 
utes, and then they would all be free. They would 
hurry and get undressed, and when they were in 
bed perhaps Dulcie would tell them stories about 
Mamma. She often did after they had said their 
prayers, and the light was out, and it was all very 
cozy and pleasant. Mamma had talked to Dulcie 


28 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


just before she died, and told her she must be a 
little mother to the others, and always be good to 
them and never let them forget their prayers. 
Molly had once said that perhaps Mamma was look- 
ing down on them from heaven, and that when they 
were in bed, and Dulcie was talking about her, she 
came to them, and loved them, although, of course, 
they could not see her. Daisy and Maud had 
thought this a beautiful idea, and had been much 
surprised to hear Dulcie sigh, and say rather sadly: 

I hope she doesn’t know about things.” 

'‘Why not?” Molly had demanded in astonish- 
ment. “ I should think you would love to think that 
perhaps Mamma came to see us.” 

“ I wouldn’t like to have her unhappy about us,” 
Dulcie answered, gravely, “ and I’m afraid she 
would be unhappy if she knew about Grandma. 
You can’t remember Danby, and how happy we were 
there, but I can, and I know how different every- 
thing was when Mamma was here.” 

Daisy wished that she could remember that happy 
time, too, but the memories were all very dim and in- 
distinct. 

For five minutes the only sounds to break the still- 
ness of the room were the ticking of the clock and 
the click of Aunt Kate’s knitting needles. Then the 
newspaper rustled, and Grandma looked up from 
her cards for the second time. 

“ Leave that paper alone, Dulcie,” she said, im- 


A VISITOR 


29 


patiently. You know the rustling of a newspaper 
is very unpleasant to me/' 

“ Excuse me, Grandma," apologized Dulcie. 
“ I’ll try not to do it again. I was so interested in 
something I was reading, I turned over the sheet 
to finish it." 

What were you reading?" Grandma inquired 
suspiciously. 

* 'About a man who was killed. They think he 
was murdered. They found his body " 

" Good gracious, child ! " cried Grandma, quite 
forgetting to shuffle her cards in her dismay. 
“ Don’t you know you are not to read such things ? 
Put that paper down at once, and don’t let me see 
you touch a newspaper again until you are old 
enough to know what to read, and what to leave 
alone." 

Dulcie blushed. 

" Miss Hammond says everybody ought to read 
the newspaper," she began. “ It’s very interesting 
about that man. Won’t you please let me finish it, 
Grandma ? ’’ 

" Certainly not, and don’t argue. Such things 
are not proper reading for a child of your age. 
Your father would be very angry if he ever heard 
of your reading such disgusting stories." 

“ Would he ? " said Dulcie, and she instantly put 
down the paper. There was no one in the world 
whom Dulcie loved as she loved her father. 


30 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


Of course he would/^ said Mrs. Winslow. 

Remember, you are not to look at a newspaper 
again until I give you permission. What are you 
rubbing your eyes in that way for, Maud ? ” 

I’m sleepy,” said Maud. Maud was less afraid 
of Grandma than any of the others, and if Mrs. 
Winslow had a favorite among her stepson’s chil- 
dren, it was little curly-headed Maud, who was 
scarcely more than a baby when the family had ar- 
rived from the West five years ago. 

Grandma glanced at the clock. 

“Nearly five minutes to eight,” she said; “you 
may as well all go to bed.” 

Four little girls sprang from their chairs with so 
much alacrity that, if Grandma had been a real 
grandmother, instead of “ only a step,” as Dulcie 
called her, her feelings might have been hurt. But 
Mrs. Winslow had no objection to the children’s 
evident dislike of her society. She meant to do her 
duty to her husband’s grandchildren, but she never 
thought of them in any other light than as a trouble- 
some incumbrance. They each gave her a sedate 
“ duty kiss,” and murmured a polite “ Good-night, 
Grandma,” and she heaved a sigh of relief that an- 
other day was over. . As for Aunt Kate, she frankly 
confessed that she hated to be kissed, and the chil- 
dren never dreamed of troubling her in any such 
way. 

“ Oh, it is nice to get up here again, all by our- 


A VISITOR 


31 


selves, isn’t it ? ” cried Daisy, with a happy little 
skip, as they entered their own big nursery, and 
Dulcie lighted the gas. I feel sometimes as if I 
couldn’t breathe down there with Grandma and 
Aunt Kate. Let’s hurry to bed, and then you’ll 
talk to us about Mamma, won’t you, Dulcie? ” 

Dulcie nodded rather absently. She was still 
thinking about the newspaper story that Grandma 
had interrupted. 

“ Hark ! ” exclaimed Maud, eagerly. “ There’s 
the singing lady.” 

They all paused to listen, and, sure enough, from 
somewhere that sounded as if it came from within 
the wall, could be distinctly heard the notes of a 
piano, and of a sweet voice singing. The walls in 
the old house were rather thin, and by pressing their 
ears against the party wall, which divided the Wins- 
lows’ from the house next door, they could even 
distinguish the words of the song. 

‘‘It’s ‘Robin Adair,”’ said Molly. “Isn’t it 
pretty? I think I like it best of all the songs she 
sings.” 

“ I like ‘ Darby and Joan ’ best,” affirmed Daisy ; 
“ it always makes me think of such nice, comfortable 
things. I do wish we knew her. I’m sure she must 
be nice ; she’s got such a lovely voice.” 

“ Grandma would never let us go to see her,” said 
Dulcie, with conviction. “ She says it isn’t proper 
to call on people she doesn’t know,” 


32 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


“ Perhaps it’s more interesting not to know her,” 
said cheerful Daisy. “ It’s so exciting to make up 
stories about her. She must be rather poor to live 
away up on the top floor of that boarding-house. I 
wish we could see her in the street sometimes.” 

“ Maybe we do see her,” said Dulcie ; “ we haven’t 
any idea what she looks like. Now, hurry and get 
undressed, children. It’s pretty cold up here; I 
think the furnace must be very low.” 

Daisy and Molly began unfastening their dresses, 
but Maud still remained with her ear glued to the 
wall. 

Come, Maud, don’t dawdle,” commanded 
Dulcie, a little impatiently. I’ll help you un- 
dress.” 

I want to listen to the singing lady,” objected 
Maud. “ I love music.” 

‘‘ You can listen in bed just as well, and if you 
stay up in this cold room, you may get another sore 
throat, and you wouldn’t like that, you know. My 
goodness! there’s the door-bell. Who can it be at 
this time of night? ” 

Evening visitors were not frequent at the Wins- 
lows’, and Molly was dispatched to peep over the 
banister. 

Perhaps it’s that minister who comes to see 
Aunt Kate,” said Dulcie, and this opinion was rather 
strengthened when Molly reported having heard a 
gentleman’s voice speaking to Mary. 


A VISITOR 


33 


Aunt Kate’s visitors were not interesting to the 
children, and they had almost forgotten the incident 
of the door-bell, when there came an unexpected tap 
at the nursery door. 

Children,” called Mary’s voice, rather breath- 
less from the three long flights of stairs, “ your 
grandma says you’re to come down right away. 
Your uncle’s here.” 

There was a simultaneous exclamation of aston- 
ishment from four very excited little girls. 

Our uncle I What uncle ? Oh, Mary, do tell 
us quick.” And the door was flung open, reveal- 
ing four children in various stages of undressing. 

His name is Maitland,” said Mary, ‘‘ and he’s 
a youngish gentleman. I never saw him before.” 

‘‘ It must be Uncle Stephen ; Mamma’s brother 
from California,” said Dulcie. ‘‘ I think he’s the 
only uncle we’ve got. Oh, isn’t it exciting ? Hurry, 
children, do please hurry ! ” 

“ I can’t go down with my boots unbuttoned,” 
complained D^isy. “ O dear ! where’s the shoe 
buttoner ? Fasten your dress, Molly, and take those 
curlers off Maud’s hair.” 

“ I’ll help you,” said Mary, good-naturedly. ‘‘ I’m 
glad you’ve got an uncle to look after you. You’d 
better tell him a few things before he goes away 
again.” 

‘‘ What sort of things ? ” inquired Daisy, inno- 
cently. 


34 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


Mary laughed. 

“ Oh, I guess you know as well as I do,” she 
said, evasively. ‘‘If you don’t, so much the bet- 
ter.” 

“Did our uncle ask for Grandma?” Dulcie 
wanted to know. 

“ Oh, yes, and she’s in the parlor with him now. 
So’s Miss Kate.” 

Dulcie’s face fell. 

“ There isn’t much use in our going down, then,” 
she said, with a sigh. “ Grandma won’t let us talk. 
She never does when there’s company.” 

“ Perhaps she will this time, because it’s our 
uncle,” said Daisy, who was always hoping pleasant 
things were going to happen. “Anyhow, it will be 
lovely to see somebody belonging to Mamma. I re- 
member Papa told us about Uncle Stephen. He’s 
lived in California ever since he was twenty, and 
none of us has ever seen him. There! my boots 
are done. Now I can help Maud, if you’ll button 
Molly’s dress, Mary.” 

Four little hearts were beating rather quickly, as 
the children hurried down-stairs to the parlor, from 
whence the sound of voices could be heard. 

“ Grandma’s talking in her ‘ company voice,’ ” 
whispered Dulcie. “ She must like Uncle Stephen 
or she wouldn’t sound so polite.” 

Grandma and Aunt Kate were both smiling when 
the children entered the parlor, and their companion. 


A VISITOR 35 

a tall, broad-shouldered young man, rose from the 
sofa, and came forward to meet them. 

So these are Ethel’s little girls,” he said, and 
Grandma answered, still in her “ company voice ” : 

''Yes, here they are, all four. Children, this is 
your Uncle Stephen from California.” 

" I know,” said Dulcie, holding out her hand, 
with her most grown-up air ; " Papa told us all about 
you. I think you were very kind to take the trouble 
to come to see us. I’m Dulcie, the eldest, and this is 
Daisy. Her real name is Margaret, after Grandma 
Maitland, but everybody calls her Daisy. These 
others are Molly and Maud. Molly’s named for 
Mamma’s sister, who died, and Maud is just a name 
Mamma liked in a book.” 

Dulcie paused, rather breathless from her long 
speech. The three younger children gazed at her 
in undisguised admiration. Under no combination 
of circumstances could any one of them have dared 
to make such a wonderful speech, and in Grandma’s 
presence, too. The visitor smiled, and they all 
thought he had a very pleasant smile indeed. 

"Of course I wanted to come to see you,” he said 
in a voice that was as pleasant as his smile( And, 
instead of taking Dulcie’s outstretched hand, he bent 
and kissed her. 

That broke the ice, for of course, all the others 
had to be kissed, too, and in a very few minutes 
Maud was perched on Uncle Stephen’s knee, and the 


36 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

other three were sitting beside him on the sofa. If 
Grandma and Aunt Kate were displeased with this 
state of affairs, they did not show it. Grandma 
continued to talk in her “ company voice,” and Aunt 
Kate smiled as her needles flew. 

Mr. Maitland explained that he had come east 
on a business trip, and was only spending a few 
days in New York. 

Indeed, I am starting back to California to- 
morrow night,” he said, “ but I couldn't leave with- 
out having a glimpse of Ethel’s children. Jim 
stopped to see me in San Francisco, on his way to 
Hong Kong, and I asked for your address, thinking 
I might be in this part of the world sometime.” 

'' Papa’s coming home next year,” ventured 
Maud, who suddenly felt very safe in Grandma’s 
presence, for was not Uncle Stephen’s kind arm 
around her, and had he not said that she had eyes 
like Mamma’s ? When he comes home we’re go- 
ing to have a little house of our own, and perhaps 
Lizzie ” 

Maud paused, admonished by a warning nudge 
from Dulcie. Grandma had forbidden the mention 
of Lizzie’s name. 

‘'We had a letter from Papa last week,” put in 
Dulcie, quickly, hoping that Grandma had not 
noticed Maud’s slip. “ He tells us such funny 
things about China. Does he ever write to you, 
Uncle Stephen?” 


A VISITOR 37 

“ Yes, occasionally. I heard from him about a 
month ago.” 

Did he tell you about the Chinese people eating 
rats and mice?” inquired Molly. ‘‘We used to 
worry for fear Papa might have to eat them, but 
he says he doesn’t.” 

Uncle Stephen laughed, and even Grandma and 
Aunt Kate looked amused, but just then Grandma 
gave the little warning cough, which always meant 
“ children should be seen and not heard,” and Molly 
instantly relapsed into embarrassed silence. 

Altogether, the call was a trifle disappointing. 
Aunt Kate talked about missions, but Uncle Stephen 
didn’t seem particularly interested in that subject, 
and in about twenty minutes he took out his watch, 
and remarked that he was afraid he must be going. 

“ I have an engagement with a business friend at 
nine,” he said, “ but I want to see these little nieces 
of mine again before I leave New York. To-mor- 
row is Saturday, and I expect to finish all my busi- 
ness by noon. My train doesn’t leave till half-past 
six. May I have these young people to spend the 
afternoon with me? I will promise to take good 
care of them.” 

That was a tremendous moment. Would 
Grandma consent ? That was the question that four 
little eager girls were asking themselves. Daisy 
ventured to give the old lady a pleading glance. 
Dulcie and Molly clasped their hands nervously. 


38 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


There was a moment of breathless suspense, and 
then, to everybody’s surprise. Grandma answered 
quite pleasantly: 

I am sure they would enjoy it very much, and 
I see no objection, if you really want to be troubled 
with them.” 

'' I want them very much,” said Uncle Stephen, 
with his kind, pleasant smile. “ I will call for them 
at about noon, and we will lunch at the Fifth Ave- 
nue, where I am staying, and do something together 
in the afternoon. Now I must be off, as I see it is 
getting near the time for my appointment, so good- 
night, chicks. Be sure to be ready for me at twelve 
to-morrow.” 

“ I never believed she’d let us,” declared Daisy, 
when they were talking things over in the nursery, 
ten minutes later. ‘‘My heart just stood still; I 
was so sure she was going to say no.” 

“ Perhaps she didn’t dare,” suggested Molly. 
“ He’s our uncle, you know. Oh, aren’t uncles 
lovely? I never had any idea they were so nice.” 

“We didn’t know anything about them,” said 
Daisy. “We don’t know much about any relations 
except fathers. Now let’s hurry to bed, and get to 
sleep as quick as we can, so it won’t seem so long 
till to-morrow.” 


CHAPTER III 


A WONDERFUL DAY 

“ ^ T’S the most interesting thing that ever hap- 

I pened to us/’ declared Molly. “ It’s almost 
like a book thing.” 

'' It would be even more exciting if we had 
thought Uncle Stephen was dead,” said Dulcie, in 
a tone of some regret. “You remember how ex- 
citing it was in ‘ Kathie’s Three Wishes,’ when her 
Uncle Robert came home rich, after everybody had 
thought he was dead for years and years. I wonder 
if Uncle Stephen is rich.” 

“ I don’t know. I’m sure,” said Daisy. “ He 
must have a good deal of money to be able to take 
us all to the Fifth Avenue Hotel to lunch. I won- 
der where he’ll take us afterwards. It might be to 
the Aquarium. Do you remember the time Papa 
took us there, Dulcie, and we saw those wonderful 
fish, and snakes, and things ? ” 

Maud’s face clouded. 

“ I don’t like snakes,” she protested ; “ I hope 
Uncle Stephen won’t take us there. I dream about 
snakes sometimes, and it’s horrid.” 

39 


40 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


“ Don’t be a baby,” began Molly, rather sharply, 
but Daisy interposed. 

“ I wouldn’t worry, Maudie, till we know where 
we really are going. Perhaps Uncle Stephen doesn’t 
intend to take us anywhere except to the hotel. We 
may just stay there all the afternoon, and watch the 
people. That would be very interesting.” 

Dulcie glanced at herself in the mirror. It was 
only half-past eleven, but they were already dressed, 
because, as Daisy wisely remarked, “ Uncle Stephen 
might happen to come ahead of time, and it wouldn’t 
be polite to keep a gentleman waiting.” 

'' I wish I hadn’t let my best hat get rained on 
that day,” remarked Dulcie, with a sigh. “ It’s so 
spotted, I don’t think it’s at all the right thing to 
wear to a hotel. If Papa were here, I know he 
would have bought me a new one, but Grandma 
doesn’t care how shabby our things are.” 

Oh, it isn’t so very spotty, and perhaps nobody 
will notice,” said Daisy, hopefully. “ Don’t let’s 
think about anything that isn’t pleasant to-day. 
Isn’t it fortunate the sun has come out? If it had 
kept on raining. Grandma would have made us all 
wear our old clothes, and that would have been a 
great deal worse than just a few spots on one hat.” 

'' Yes, but it isn’t your hat,” objected Dulcie. 
‘‘ Yours looks almost as good as new, and Molly’s 
and Maud’s are all right, too.” 

For a moment Daisy hesitated, and then, with 


A WONDERFUL DAY 4 1 

sudden determination, she took off her own hat, and 
held it out to Dulcie. 

''Let’s change,” she proposed cheerfully. "You’re 
the eldest, and ought to look the best, and I really 
don’t mind a bit.” 

Dulcie drew back, blushing. 

"As if I would do anything so mean,” she de- 
clared, indignantly. " I believe you’re one of the 
most unselfish people in the world, Daisy. It was 
all my own fault, anyhow. If I had taken an um- 
brella that day, as Grandma told me to, I wouldn’t 
have spoiled my hat. Now, suppose we go down 
and wait for Uncle Stephen on the sidewalk. It’s 
rather hot up here, with all our things on.” 

This suggestion was greeted with favor, and a 
few minutes later the front door had closed behind 
four very happy little girls. Grandma and Aunt 
Kate were both out, so there was no one but Mary to 
see them start, but Mary happened to be in a good 
humor that morning, and greatly comforted Dulcie 
by the assurance that nobody would notice the spots 
on her hat, and that they all looked " just as nice as 
could be.” 

" We’ll walk up and down,” said Dulcie; " it’s too 
cold to stand still, but we mustn’t go far, or we 
might miss Uncle Stephen. Oh, it is grand to be 
going somewhere, isn’t it? ” 

"Do you suppose there’ll be ice-cream for lunch?” 
inquired Maud, anxiously. 


42 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


Of course there will be,” said Molly. “ You 
can have anything you want at a hotel. You just 
pay a dollar, and they’ll bring you whatever you 
ask for. I know, because Papa took me to the 
Clarendon once, the time you all had the measles, 
and mine hadn’t come out yet.” 

“ Can you even ask for two helpings ? ” questioned 
Maud, with sparkling eyes. 

“ Yes, I guess so, but perhaps it wouldn’t be 
polite to take more than one. Uncle Stephen might 
think it was piggish.” 

“ Of course he would,” said Dulcie, who had 
grown suddenly grave ; “ it wouldn’t do at all. And 
that makes me think of something I want to say to 
you all. Give me your hand, Maud, so we can all 
walk together. It’s about our loyalty to Grandma. 
You know what Papa used to tell us about always 
being loyal to our family, and never telling things 
that happen at home. We mustn’t let Uncle Stephen 
think we don’t have ice-cream, and nice things like 
that every day. We mustn’t mention Grandma’s 
being cross, or — or any disagreeable things at all. 
Will you all remember ? ” 

'' Yes,” promised Daisy, readily, but Molly looked 
a little doubtful. 

“ I don’t see why we should have to be so very 
particular with Uncle Stephen,” she objected; he’s 
our real uncle, and Grandma’s only a step.” 

** But we live with Grandma,” rebuked Dulcie. 


A WONDERFUL DAY 


43 


“ Papa said it was very disloyal to talk about people 
we live with. Don’t look so solemn, Maudie. Of 
course, if Uncle Stephen or the waiter should ask us 
if we would like another helping of ice-cream, it 
would be all right to say yes.” 

Maud’s face brightened. 

“ I sort of think Uncle Stephen will ask us,” she 
said. “ He seemed so very kind, and I’m sure he 
likes me best, because he said I looked like Mamma. 
Let’s cross over. If the singing lady should happen 
to be at her window, she might like to see how nice 
we look.” 

The others laughed, but complied with the request. 

“ There isn’t anybody at the windows,” said 
Molly, glancing up at the top floor of the boarding- 
house. What makes you so much interested in 
that lady, Maud? She may not be a bit interest- 
ing.” 

“ I love to hear her sing,” said Maud, “ and be- 
sides, I’ve got a secret,” she added, but in so low a 
tone that the others did not catch the words. At 
that moment there was an excited exclamation from 
Daisy, of '' here he comes; he’s just turned the cor- 
ner.” And everything else was forgotten in the joy 
of running to meet Uncle Stephen. 

Well, well,” laughed Mr. Maitland, kissing 
them all round, so here you are, all four. No 
danger of being kept waiting, I see.” 

‘‘ Oh, we wouldn’t do that,” protested Dulciq^ 


44 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


quite shocked at the mere suggestion. ‘'We got 
ready early, in case you should happen to come be- 
fore twelve. Grandma and Aunt Kate have both 
gone out, so there isn’t any use of your going in to 
see them.” 

“ You are the people I want to see this time,” 
said Uncle Stephen, with a rather peculiar smile. 
“ I came a little early on purpose, so as to have 
plenty of time for lunch. I have tickets for ‘ The 
Pirates of Penzance ’ this afternoon.” 

“ ‘ The Pirates of Penzance,’ ” repeated Dulcie, 
with a little gasp. “ Why — why, that’s at a theatre, 
isn’t it ? ” 

“ To be sure it is, and a very charming little 
operetta it is, too. I hope you haven’t all seen it 
already.” 

“ Oh, no,” said Dulcie, “ we never — ^that is, I 
mean we don’t often go to theatres. Daisy and I 
saw ‘ Rip Van Winkle ’ once with Papa. It’s very 
wonderful — I mean it’s very kind of you to take us.” 

And despite all Dulcie’s attempts to maintain 
what she considered the proper demeanor of a 
grown-up young lady, she could not refrain from 
a little skip of delight. 

As for the other three, they made no attempt 
whatever to conceal their delight, and began plying 
Uncle Stephen with a shower of questions about 
“ The Pirates of Penzance,” which lasted till they 
reached the corner of Fifth Avenue, where he was 


A WONDERFUL DAY 


45 


obliged to interrupt them, to ask whether they 
would prefer walking to the hotel or taking a stage. 

Oh, a stage, please — that is, if you don't mind," 
pleaded Molly. “We just love riding in the stages. 
We hardly ever get a ride now, since Papa and 
Lizzie went away, because Grandma won’t let us go 
by ourselves." 

“ Who is Lizzie ? " Mr. Maitland asked, as they 
paused on the corner, to await an approaching stage. 

“ She was our nurse," Dulcie explained, “ but she 
went away last summer. We really don’t need a 
nurse any more, we’re getting so big." 

Mr. Maitland glanced down at the four little 
figures, as if he did not consider them “ so very 
big," after all, but just then the stage came within 
hailing distance, and he made no remarks on the 
subject. 

It was only a short distance to the hotel, but the 
children thoroughly enjoyed the little ride, especially 
Maud, who, somewhat to Dulcie’s disapproval, re- 
quested to be permitted to pay the fares. Because, 
as she explained, “ it made one feel so grand to 
spend money." Uncle Stephen laughed so much, 
and was so kind and genial, that even Dulcie forgot 
to be dignified, and by the time they reached their 
destination, they were all the best of friends. 

“ I am going to leave you in the reception-room 
for a few moments," Mr. Maitland said, leading the 
way across the marble hall of the big hotel, “ while 


46 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

I look up two ladies who are to lunch with us. They 
are friends of mine from San Francisco, who have 
met your father, and are anxious to see you all.’' 

Nobody said anything, but all were conscious of 
a sensation of disappointment, which Molly was the 
first to put into words, the moment they found them- 
selves alone in the reception-room. 

'‘If there are going to be ladies,” she said, rue- 
fully, “ Uncle Stephen will talk to them all the time, 
and we won’t have half so much fun.” 

“ Perhaps they are very nice ladies,” suggested 
Daisy. “ He said they knew Papa, and wanted to 
know us. Anyhow, we’re going to a real theatre, 
and nothing can spoil that.” 

“ I’m afraid ladies notice other people’s clothes 
more than gentlemen do,” said Dulcie, with a sigh, 
and a glance in the long mirror. “ Do you think 
those spots show very much, Daisy? ” 

“ No, not so very much,” answered Dai^, divided 
between her desire to speak the truth, and fear of 
making her sister still more uncomfortable. “ Per- 
haps the ladies won’t notice the spots at all, if the 
light isn’t too bright.” 

Dulcie sighed again, but was forced to make the 
best of the situation, and in another moment Uncle 
Stephen returned, accompanied by such a very 
pretty young lady that, in their surprise and admira- 
tion, the children quite forgot to worry about their 
own shortcomings. 


A WONDERFUL DAY 


47 


This is Miss Florence Leslie, Children,’' said Mr. 
Maitland. “ Her mother, Mrs. Leslie, will be down 
in a few moments.” 

“ You see, I couldn’t wait for Mother,” the young 
lady explained, smiling, and showing such fascinat- 
ing dimples, that Daisy and Molly both longed to 
kiss her. I was so anxious to see you all. Now 
let me see if I can guess which is which, from your 
father’s description. This tall one must be Dulcie, 
I am sure, and the little curly-haired one is Maud. 
These others are Daisy and Molly.” 

“ Why, you know all our names,” exclaimed 
Molly, in astonishment. “ Did you ever see us 
before ? ” 

“ No, but I have heard a great deal about you 
from your father. We saw a good deal of him in 
San Francisco, before he sailed for Hong Kong, and 
he and my brother are in business together now. I 
wonder if you would each be willing to give me a 
kiss.” 

''Of course we would,” said Dulcie, heartily, and 
four little faces were eagerly raised. Miss Leslie 
kissed them all, " not just duty kisses,” Molly said 
afterwards, but as if she really liked doing it, and 
in less than five minutes they were chattering away 
to this new acquaintance as if they had known her 
all their lives. 

Then Mrs. Leslie appeared, and they all went into 
the dining-room. Mrs. Leslie was not as pretty as 


48 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

her daughter, but she had a very sweet face, and was 
so kind and motherly that the little girls soon felt 
almost as much at home with her as with Miss 
Florence. 

“And now who is going to order the luncheon ? 
Uncle Stephen asked, when they had taken their 
places at one of the round tables in the big, crowded 
dining-room. “ Will you do it, Mrs. Leslie? 

“ Suppose we let Dulcie order,” suggested Miss 
Florence. “ When I was a little girl, and we went 
to a hotel, I remember half the fun was in ordering 
things to eat.” 

Dulcie gasped, as the waiter handed her the long 
bill of fare. 

“ I — I don’t think I could,” she faltered ; “ there 
are so many things, I shouldn’t know where to begin. 
What’s the matter, Maud? ” 

“ It’s about the ice-cream,” whispered Maud. 
“ It doesn’t matter what else we have.” Maud’s 
whisper was sufficiently audible to be heard by the 
whole party, and all the grown-ups laughed, some- 
what to the little girl’s embarrassment. Then Miss 
Leslie said, kindly: 

“ I will help you, if you would like to have me,” 
and on Dulcie’s grateful request, she gave the waiter 
an order, which seemed to the children almost ap- 
pallingly large. 

What a delicious meal it was, and how they all 
enjoyed it! Even Dulcie forgot her intention of 


A WONDERFUL DAY 


49 


taking a light lunch, for fear Uncle Stephen might 
think she was hungry, which would reflect unfavor- 
ably on Grandma’s providing. Miss Leslie certainly 
did not forget to order ice-cream, and, better still, 
she took two helpings of it herself, and advised them 
all to do likewise. Mr. Maitland and Mrs. Leslie 
seemed to have a good deal to say to each other, but 
Miss Florence devoted herself almost exclusively to 
the children, and before luncheon was over, had 
succeeded in winning all their hearts. 

'' I wish you were going to the theatre with us,” 
Molly remarked, regretfully, as they were leaving 
the dining-room, and she gave her new friend’s hand 
an affectionate squeeze. 

“ I am going,” said Miss Leslie, smiling ; “ your 
uncle invited me. He asked Mother, too, but she 
declined on account of a headache.” 

Molly gave vent to her satisfaction by a little 
squeal of delight, and Maud — who was nothing if 
not truthful — remarked in a sudden burst of confi- 
dence: 

‘‘We didn’t think we were going to like it when 
Uncle Stephen said ladies were coming to lunch, but 
you’re not a bit like an ordinary lady.” 

“ Maud ! ” cried Dulcie, reprovingly, but Miss 
Leslie laughed merrily, and did not seem in the least 
offended. 

That was a wonderful, never-to-be-forgotten 
afternoon. Long after their elders had ceased to 


50 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

think of it, the four little girls loved to recall its 
delights. The bright little opera, with its charming 
music, and amusing dialogue. The funny pirate 
chief, who frightened Maud at first, and then fasci- 
nated her for the rest of the afternoon. The pom- 
pous major-general, with his numerous family of 
daughters. And, last but not least, the gallant 
policemen, who were as much afraid of the pirate 
band as the pirates were afraid of them. It was all 
one continuous delight. But even better than the 
play was the pleasant companionship. Long before 
the afternoon was over, they had all come to the 
conclusion that, with the exception of Papa, and 
possibly the faithful Lizzie, Uncle Stephen and 
Miss Leslie were the two nicest grown-ups they 
had ever met. 

But everything, even “ The Pirates of Penzance,'* 
must come to an end at last, and all too soon the 
curtain had fallen on the last rollicking chorus, and 
they were making their way out through the crowd, 
into the dusk of the winter afternoon. 

‘‘ Wouldn't it be lovely if nice things never came 
to an end ? " remarked Dulcie, as they stood on the 
cold corner, while Uncle Stephen went in quest of a 
cab. 

Miss Leslie smiled. 

“ There wouldn't be any next time to look for- 
ward to, then,” she said. 

‘‘ But we don't have any next times,” began Molly, 


A WONDERFUL DAY 5 1 

and checked herself, warned by a reproving glance 
from Dulcie. 

Miss Leslie looked rather surprised, but before 
she could ask any questions, Uncle Stephen returned, 
and they were all packed into a cab, Mr. Mait- 
land explaining that he and Miss Florence were 
in a hurry, and must get home as soon as pos- 
sible. 

“ It's been the loveliest afternoon we ever had in 
our lives," declared Daisy, as the cab drew up be- 
fore their own door. Oh, Uncle Stephen, won’t 
we see you again — ^have you really got to go back to 
California to-night? ’’ 

I am afraid so," Uncle Stephen answered, with 
a kind glance at the row of sober little faces, “ but 
perhaps I shall come back again before such a very 
long time." 

‘‘ Don’t forget there’s always a next time to look 
forward to," said Miss Leslie, with her bright smile. 
‘‘ We’ve all had a delightful afternoon to look back 
upon. I hope you won’t forget me." 

'' Indeed we won’t ! " cried Dulcie and Daisy both 
together, and Molly added, plaintively: 

“ Oh, have you got to go back to California, 
too ? " 

“ Yes, dear, Mother and I are leaving to-night, on 
the same train with Mr. Maitland. But I want you 
to remember me, for I have an idea that we shall 
meet again some day, and in the meantime I wonder 


52 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


if you would write to me occasionally. I love to 
get letters from little girls. 

'' We'd love to," said Daisy, blushing with pleas- 
ure. ‘‘We none of us write very well except Dulcie, 
but if you wouldn't mind a few mistakes in spell- 
ing " 

Miss Leslie said she wouldn't mind in the least, 
and by that time Mary had opened the front door, 
in answer to Uncle Stephen's ring, and the good- 
byes had to be said. 

“ I feel just the way I'm sure Cinderella must 
have felt when she got back from the ball,” re- 
marked Dulcie, throwing herself wearily on the 
nursery sofa. “ That's the only trouble about hav- 
ing good times; everything seems so dull when 
they're over.” 

“ I don't mind,” said cheerful Daisy. “ Just 
think what fun we're going to have talking it all 
over. I don't think we shall ever feel quite so 
lonely again, now that we know Uncle Stephen and 
Miss Leslie.” 

“ I don't see what good they can be to us away 
off in California,” objected Molly, who was sharing 
some of Dulcie's depression. 

“ But we've promised to write to them both,” 
argued Daisy, “ and that will be very interesting. 
I wonder how soon it will do to write our first 
letter.” 

“ I think we might write just a short one to Uncle 


A WONDERFUL DAY 


53 


Stephen to-morrow/’ said Molly. “It would be 
polite to tell him again what a beautiful time we 
had, don’t you think so? ” 

Nobody answered, and there was a short silence, 
which Maud broke. 

“ I don’t think I want any dinner,” she remarked, 
with a long sigh. “There’s going to be corned 
beef, there always is on Saturday, and I hate corned 
beef. I’d like some more ice-cream, but I don’t 
want anything else to eat. My head aches, and I 
think I’m going to have another sore throat.” 


CHAPTER lY 


THE SINGING LADY 

M AUD’S sore throats were one of the great- 
est trials to her sisters. Not only were 
they of frequent occurrence, but they 
were always regarded by Grandma in the light of an 
especial grievance to herself, for which somebody 
must be held responsible. If Maud had lived in the 
present day, some doctor would probably have de- 
cided that her tonsils needed to be removed, but in 
1880 people did not think so much about operations, 
and the family physician contented himself with pre- 
scribing simple remedies, and the advice that the 
child should be kept out of draughts, and not allowed 
to get her feet wet. Maud’s prediction on the pres- 
ent occasion proved only too true. In the middle of 
the night Daisy was aroused by a feverish demand 
from her little sister, for a drink of water, and by 
morning Maud could not swallow without consider- 
able difficulty, and the too familiar white spots had 
appeared on her throat. Of course Grandma had to 
be told, and the consequence was a severe lecture to 
the other three, which lasted all through breakfast. 

‘‘ I might have known what would happen when 
54 


THE SINGING LADY 


55 


I let you all go off yesterday,” grumbled Mrs. Wins- 
low, as she prepared Maud’s gargle in the nursery 
after breakfast. “ I don’t suppose it ever occurred 
to one of you to see that the child did not sit in her 
warm coat all the afternoon.” 

** Miss Leslie made her take off her coat,” pro- 
tested Daisy, “ and I don’t really think she got over- 
heated or anything.” 

“ Well, she evidently caught cold in some way. 
At any rate, this has taught me a lesson. Now re- 
member, Maud, you are to gargle your throat regu- 
larly every two hours, and take one of these powders 
every hour. If I hear of your getting out of bed I 
shall punish you severely.” 

“ Who is going to stay with Maud this morning. 
Grandma?” Daisy asked, following Mrs. Winslow 
out into the hall. ‘‘ I suppose one of us will have 
to stay home from church.” 

Grandma reflected for a moment. She was very 
particular about church-going, but under the present 
circumstances it was evident that Maud could not 
be left alone. 

I think you and Daisy had better come to church 
with me,” she said. “ Maud doesn’t need anything 
except her gargle and the powders, and Molly can 
attend to them.” 

So it was settled, much to Molly’s satisfaction, 
and at half-past ten Dulcie and Daisy departed for 
church, with Grandma and Aunt Kate, and the two 


$6 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

younger children were left to themselves. Maud, 
who was feverish and rather cross, was inclined to 
resent this arrangement, which deprived her of the 
society of her two older sisters. 

I want Dulcie to stay and tell me stories,'* she 
pleaded. Nobody can tell stories but Dulcie." 

“ I'll tell you stories this afternoon," said Dulcie. 

I don't believe Grandma will make me go to church 
twice to-day, on account of your being sick." 

'' But I want stories this morning," fretted Maud ; 
'' I want to hear about Mamma. Ask Grandma to 
let you stay at home instead of Molly." 

It wouldn't be any use ; it would only make her 
crosser than she is already. Molly will read to you. 
There's a very nice book I got from the library. It's 
called ‘ Ministering Children,' and it's a regular Sun- 
day story." 

I don't like the way Molly reads," complained 
the invalid. “ She can't pronounce the long words, 
and she keeps stopping to spell things. I can read 
'most as well as she can myself." 

But whether Maud liked it or not, there was noth- 
ing to be done, as they all knew well. Grandma 
never changed her mind about things, and when she 
had once given an order she expected implicit obedi- 
ence. 

‘‘ I'll do anything you want me to," said Molly, 
good-naturedly, as the retreating footsteps of the 
church-goers died away in the distance. We can't 


THE SINGING LADY 57 

play lotto, because it's Sunday, but perhaps it 
wouldn't be wicked to cut out some paper dolls." 

Maud brightened a little at this suggestion, and 
for the next half hour all went well. Then it was 
time for Maud's medicine, and she began to rebel. 

I don't like those nasty powders, and I'm not 
going to take any more till Grandma comes home." 

“ Then we shall both get an awful scolding," said 
Molly, desperately. Grandma knows just how 
many powders there are, and she'll count to see if 
you've taken them all right. Do swallow this one, 
like a good girl, and I'll give you a drink of water to 
take away the taste.” 

Perhaps Maud realized the force of her sister's 
argument. At any rate, she made no further objec- 
tion to swallowing the medicine, over which she 
made a wry face. 

'' When I grow up. I'm never going to take medi- 
cine," she announced, decidedly. “ I'm not going to 
do a single thing I don't want to.” 

“ Maybe you'll have to,” said Molly. “ Grown-up 
people can't always do just as they like. Papa 
didn't want to go to China and leave us all, but he 
had to, and Lizzie didn’t want to go away. Listen, 
the lady next door is beginning to sing.” 

Maud's face brightened. 

‘‘ I'm glad,” she said. She always sings hymns 
on Sunday. I wonder why she doesn't go to church. 
Maybe she's sick, too.” 


58 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

For ten minutes the room was very still, while the 
two children listened to the music, which reached 
them distinctly through the party wall. Then Maud 
began to show signs of restlessness again. 

I wish she’d sing ‘ Only an Armor-Bearer,’ ” she 
complained, fretfully. ' Only an Armor-Bearer ’ 
is my favorite hymn ; it’s got such a nice, lively tune. 
She ’most always sings it on Sunday.” 

Perhaps she will in a little while,” said Molly, 
and again there was silence. But, contrary to their 
expectations, the lady next door did not sing “ Only 
an Armor-Bearer,” and after a few minutes the 
music ceased. 

“ O dear ! ” cried Maud, ‘‘ now she’s stopped, and 
I did want ' Only an Armor-Bearer ’ so much. 
Can’t we ask her to sing some more ? ” 

“Why, Maud, how could we? We don’t know 
her. Oh, Maud, don’t begin to cry. You’ll be 
worse if you do.” 

“ I am worse now,” declared Maud, seizing ea- 
gerly upon this new idea. “ I’m much worse. 
Maybe I’m going to die and go to heaven, like 
Mamma. If I do you’ll be sorry you wouldn’t ask 
the lady to sing ‘ Only an Armor-Bearer.’ ” 

“ But how can I ask her, Maudie ? It would be 
dreadfully rude to call through the wall, and I don’t 
believe she’d understand, anyway. If I went in 
next door I should have to ring the bell to get back, 
and then Mary would see me, and she’d be sure to 


THE SINGING LADY 


59 


tell Grandma. Besides, I wouldn't know whom 
to ask for. We don't even know the lady's 
name." 

Maud stopped crying, and raised herself on one 
elbow. 

“If you'll promise never to tell Grandma," she 
said, “ I'll tell you something. It's my secret ; I've 
had it for ever so many days." 

“A secret! What kind of a secret?" Molly 
was beginning to be interested. 

“ It's a very lovely secret," said Maud, proudly. 
“You big ones are always having secrets, so I got 
one, too. I won't tell it, though, unless you promise 
not to tell Grandma." 

“ Of course I'll promise. You know I never tell 
Grandma things, or Aunt Kate either." 

“ I don't know that we ought to tell Dulcie and 
Daisy," said Maud, doubtfully ; “ they might think 
Grandma ought to know. That’s why I didn't talk 
about it. It was so exciting. I peeked in, but I 
was scared to go any farther." 

“ Peeked in ? " repeated Molly ; “ where did you 
peek in ? ” 

“ Next door. Through the door in the trunk- 
room, you know." 

“Do you mean the door Grandpa had cut between 
the houses when Uncle George lived next door? I 
thought it was locked up after Uncle George died, 
and the boarding-house people came there." 


6o FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


“ It isn't locked up," said Maud, triumphantly. 
“ I found out, and that’s my secret." 

'' Maud ! " gasped Molly, her eyes round with as- 
tonishment. “ You mean you knew such an excit- 
ing thing, and never told any one." 

Maud nodded. 

“ I wanted to have a secret," she said, ‘‘ and I 
was afraid Dulcie or Daisy would tell Grandma. It 
was the last time I had a cold, and Grandma 
wouldn’t let me go out. I was up here playing all 
by myself. I was looking for my littlest china doll. 
I couldn’t find her, and I thought perhaps I’d left 
her in the trunk-room the day we played Libby 
Prison in there, so I went to look. I did find her 
behind one of the biggest trunks, and then I saw the 
door. I thought it was locked, of course, but I 
shook the handle just for fun, and all of a sudden it 
came open, and I looked right in next door." 

“ What did you see ? ’’ demanded Molly, in a tone 
of breathless interest. 

“ I didn’t see very much," confessed Maud, re- 
luctantly. ‘‘ It was just a big closet, and there were 
brooms and dust-pans in it, but it really was next 
door. First I was going to tell, but then I was 
afraid if Grandma knew she’d have the door locked 
up right away, and then we could never go to see 
the singing lady.” 

‘‘ I’m sure Grandma would have it locked right 
up,” said Molly, “ and perhaps the lady who keeps 


THE SINGING LADY 


6l 


the boarding-house would, too, but it's very interest- 
ing to know it isn’t locked now. Why, it must have 
been unlocked all the time since Uncle George died, 
and nobody ever found it out before. I don’t be- 
lieve the people next door know it any more than 
we did.” 

“Of course they don’t,” said Maud, “ that’s what 
makes it so interesting. Now you see you can go 
to see the singing lady just as easy as anything, and 
ask her to sing ' Only an Armor-Bearer.’ ” 

“Oh, Maud, I couldn’t,” protested Molly; “it 
would be such a very queer thing to do. The lady 
might not like it a bit, and Grandma would make 
such a fuss. She never lets us talk to people she 
doesn’t know.” 

“ You promised you wouldn’t tell Grandma, and 
I know the singing lady wouldn’t be angry. You’ve 
got to do it, Molly, or else maybe I’ll die and go to 
heaven.” 

Molly hesitated. It would certainly be a thrilling 
experience to go uninvited, and without even ringing 
the door-bell, into the house next door, that myste- 
rious boarding-house, upon whose occupants 
Grandma and Aunt Kate looked down from their 
height of social superiority. Molly loved adven- 
ture, and yet — what would Grandma say? Would 
even Dulcie and Daisy altogether approve? Maud 
noticed the hesitation in her sister’s manner, and 
was quick to take advantage of it. 


62 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


“If you won’t go,” she announced, sitting up in 
bed, “ I’ll get right straight up and go myself.” 

Molly rose irresolutely. 

“ If I go, will you promise faithfully not to get 
out of bed for a single minute till I come back? ” 
Maud nodded emphatically. 

“ ril promise, cross my heart, and that’s the sol- 
emnest promise anybody can make, and if you break 
it something awful will happen to you. Mary told 
me it would. I’ll lie just as still, as still, and when 
you come back you can tell me all about the singing 
lady.” 

“ And will you gargle and take your powders all 
day without making any more fuss ? ” 

“ Yes, and I’ll give you my best paper doll, and 
all her dresses. Don’t you think I’m kind ? ” 

Molly moved slowly towards the door. 

“ It seems an awful thing to do,” she said, “ but 
I’ll only stay a minute, and I can’t let you get out of 
bed.” 

Molly’s heart was beating very fast as she crossed 
the hall to the dark room, which Grandma used for 
storing trunks and boxes. There was no one to see 
her, for both the servants were in the kitchen, and 
she and Maud had the upper part of the house quite 
to themselves. The trunk-room was not locked, 
and she made her way amid various impediments, 
to the heavy door, which she had always known 
communicated with the adjoining house. Old Dr. 



The door swung open so quietly and easily that she nearly 

FELL OVER BACKWARD.— (> 3 . 


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THE SINGING LADY 


63 


Winslow had had it made in days gone by, when the 
house next door had belonged to his only brother, of 
whom he was very fond. This brother had died 
before the children came to New York, and although 
the house still belonged to the Winslow family, it 
had been rented to a lady, who took boarders, much 
to the disgust of Grandma and Aunt Kate, who 
looked upon a boarding-house as a blot on the neigh- 
borhood. Molly was telling herself that her little 
sister must have made a mistake. It did not seem 
possible that the communicating door could have 
been left unfastened all these years, without the fact 
having been discovered. With a trembling hand 
she turned the knob. The door stuck a little, and 
she was just about to turn away, convinced that 
Maud had dreamed the whole thing, when suddenly 
the door swung open, so quietly and easily, that, in 
her astonishment, she nearly fell over backward. 

There, sure enough, was the closet, just as Maud 
had described it. Molly fairly gasped, and in that 
one moment everything else was forgotten in the 
excitement of the wonderful discovery she had 
made. She did not shrink back, as Maud had done, 
but pushing her way through brooms and brushes, 
and stumbling over various articles on the floor, 
reached another door, which she opened, and the 
next moment she had stepped out into a hall, which 
was exactly like the hall of their own top floor. 

It was very quiet, and there was no one to be seen. 


64 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

Molly closed the closet door softly, and stood look- 
ing about her. There were four rooms on the floor, 
and all the doors were closed. The singing lady’s 
room was in the front, she knew, and after one mo- 
ment’s hesitation, she stepped boldly forward, and 
knocked. 

“ Come in,” called a pleasant voice, and there was 
a sound as of some piece of furniture being moved 
rapidly along the floor. Before Molly could quite 
make up her mind to turn the handle, the door was 
opened from the inside, and a little lady in a wheel- 
chair suddenly confronted her. 

She was such a tiny lady that for the first moment 
Molly thought she must be a child, but when the 
pleasant voice spoke again, it sounded oddly fa- 
miliar. 

“ Won’t you come in? ” she said, and the face that 
looked at Molly from the wheel-chair was so very 
sweet and winning, that half her embarrassment 
melted away at once. 

I hope you’ll excuse me for coming,” she fal- 
tered, ‘‘ but — but, you see, we live next door, and 
my little sister is sick. We can hear you sing 
through the wall, and we all love it. My sister 
wants me to ask if you won’t please sing ‘ Only an 
Armor-Bearer,’ because it’s her favorite hymn.” 

“ Come right in,” said the lady, hospitably, and 
would you mind closing the door? The halls are 
rather chilly.” 


THE SINGING LADY 


65 


Molly complied, and found herself in a room ex- 
actly like their own nursery on the other side of the 
wall. Indeed, the two houses had been built at the 
same time, and were alike in every particular. It 
was evidently used as both bed and sitting-room, for 
a piano stood between the windows, and by the 
empty fireplace stood a small mahogany bookcase 
well filled with rather shabby-looking books. The 
room might have been more tidy, for the bed was 
still unmade, and on the table was a tray containing 
the remains of a breakfast, but the lady herself was 
as neat as possible, although her blue wrapper was 
somewhat faded, and the slippers on the little feet 
that hung helplessly over the edge of the wheel-chair 
had long ago lost their first freshness. 

“ You must excuse things being a little upset,” 
the lady said, apologetically. ‘‘ It's Sunday morn- 
ing, you know, and the chambermaid has gone to 
church. She's a nice girl, and very kind and oblig- 
ing, but I am afraid I give her a good deal of 
trouble. Take those bedclothes off that comfort- 
able chair, and sit down. It's a great pleasure to 
have a little girl come to see me. And so your 
sister likes my singing. I am very glad. I had no 
idea any one cared about it.” 

“ We all like it,” said Molly, who had obeyed her 
hostess’ instructions, and seated herself. “ You see, 
our room is just on the other side of the wall, 
and we can hear very well indeed. Maud is in 


66 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

bed to-day, with a sore throat, and she loved the 
music.” 

Bless her heart ! ” cried the little lady, fairly 
beaming with pleasure, “ she shall have all the music 
I can give her. I love to sing, though I know I 
haven’t much of a voice. Would you mind telling 
me your name ? ” 

“ My name is Molly Winslow,” said Molly, “ and 
my sisters’ names are Dulcie, Daisy and Maud. It’s 
Maud who is sick. She’s only seven. I’m nine, 
and Dulcie and Daisy are eleven and ten. Our 
mamma is dead, and our papa has gone to China. 
We live next door with Grandma Winslow.” 

“ I know who you are now,” said the lady, smil- 
ing ; you are old Dr. Winslow’s grandchildren. I 
have always admired your grandfather’s writing so 
much. I have read a number of his books, and I 
was so much interested when I heard his house was 
next door.” 

‘‘Were you?” said Molly. “I’m glad you like 
Grandpa’s books. I didn’t know anybody did. 
Dulcie began one once, but she said it wasn’t very 
interesting. I suppose people ought to like their 
relations’ books.” 

The lady laughed such a mprry laugh that Molly 
found herself laughing, too, though she did not 
know why. 

“ I think Dr. Winslow’s books might seem rather 
dull to a little girl,” she said. “ Perhaps I might 


THE SINGING LADY 


67 


have found them dull myself, if I were able to get 
about like other people, but when one has to live in 
a wheel-chair one is glad of almost anything to 
read.” 

Do you always have to stay in the chair ? ” 
asked Molly, sympathetically. “ I thought perhaps 
you had just sprained your ankle or something like 
that. Papa sprained his ankle once and he had to 
keep his foot up for three whole weeks.” 

I haven’t walked a step for nearly three years,” 
said the lady, quietly. 

“ Can’t you even go up and down stairs? ” 

The lady shook her head. 

“ I was carried up here the day I left the hos- 
pital,” she said, sadly, “ and I have lived in this 
room ever since. I shall never walk again, the doc- 
tors tell me. But I manage to get on very well,” 
she added, brightening at sight of Molly’s distressed 
face. “ You would really be surprised to know all 
the things I can do without getting out of my chair. 
Then people are very kind to me. Miss Collins, the 
lady who keeps this house, was an old friend of my 
mother’s, and she often comes to sit with me in the 
evening. The chambermaid helps me in many little 
ways, and with my books, and my dear piano, I 
really get on very comfortably indeed.” 

Molly was deeply impressed. 

“ Could you walk when you were a little girl ? ” 
she inquired, anxiously. 


68 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


A shadow crossed the lady’s sweet face. 

Oh yes, indeed,” she said. I walked just like 
any one else till three years ago, when I met with my 
accident.” 

'' What sort of an accident was it ? ” Molly was 
so much interested that she quite forgot that some 
people might have considered her questions rather 
impertinent. 

I was run over, crossing Broadway one very 
slippery day. The ground was covered with ice, 
and I fell in the middle of the street. Before I 
could get on my feet again, a horse-car came around 
the corner, and the driver could not stop his horses 
in time. It really wasn’t anybody’s fault.” 

Molly rose. She was beginning to feel embar- 
rassed again. There was something in the sight of 
the helpless little figure in the wheel-chair that made 
her feel all at once as if she wanted to cry. 

I’m afraid I must go,” she said a trifle unstead- 
ily. ‘‘ I can’t leave Maud any longer. I’m awfully 
glad I know you, and the others will be so interested 
when I tell them about you.” 

“ And I am delighted to know you, too,” her new 
acquaintance said, heartily. ‘‘ I have been more in- 
terested in my little neighbors than you might sup- 
pose. You see, I can hear your voices through the 
wall, just as you hear my singing, and when one 
spends a good deal of time alone, one gets in- 
terested in all sorts of little things. I hope you 


THE SINGING LADY 69 

will come to see me again, and bring all your little 
sisters/' 

'' We’d love to come,” declared Molly. Will 
you please tell me your name in case we should want 
to ask for you at the front door.^ ” 

“ My name is Oliver, Mary Oliver, but everybody 
calls me Miss Polly, and I like it much better. My 
brother Tom always called me Polly. I am sorry 
you must go so soon, for it is a great treat to have 
a visitor, but I suppose you mustn’t leave your little 
sister any longer. I hope you will find things in 
better order the next time you come. Maggie is 
really very good about keeping the room neat, but 

Sunday morning ” And Miss Polly glanced 

regretfully at the unmade bed and the tray of break- 
fast dishes. 

“ Good-bye,” said Molly, holding out her hand. 

Miss Polly shook the little hand — ^her own hand 
was not much bigger — and then she looked at her 
visitor rather anxiously. 

‘‘ Aren’t you afraid of taking cold without any 
wrap ? ” she questioned. ‘‘ To be sure it is only 
next door.” 

“ Oh, I don’t have to go out in the street at all,” 
said Molly, unthinkingly. “ I came through the 
door in the wall.” 

“ The door in the wall ? ” repeated Miss Polly, 
looking puzzled. “ What door do you mean, dear ? ” 

Molly blushed. 


70 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

“ I didn't mean to tell/’ she said, '' because it’s a 
secret. It’s a door that was cut between the two 
houses when Grandpa’s brother lived here. Every- 
body thinks it’s locked, but it isn’t. It’s such fun 
coming that way — like doing a thing in a book, you 
know.” 

Miss Polly laughed merrily. 

“ What a delightful way to come,” she said. “ I 
won’t mention your secret to a soul, and you must 
often come to see me through the wall.” She 
looked so young and pretty, with her face all danc- 
ing with merriment, that Molly felt suddenly as if 
she were sharing a secret with a little girl of her 
own age. 

“ I’ll tell Dulcie and Daisy as soon as they come 
home from church/’ she promised, “and I know 
they’ll want to come and see you right away.” And 
then she hurried off. 

As she entered the nursery, a few minutes later, 
the strains of “ Only an Armor-Bearer ” could be 
distinctly heard through the wall, and Miss Polly’s 
piano was playing a lively accompaniment to the 
familiar tune. 


CHAPTER V 


MISS Polly's story 

course, if Grandma should ever ask us, 
f J should have to tell her, but if she 
doesn't — and I don’t really believe she 
will — I don’t see why it’s our duty to say anything 
about it.” 

Dulcie spoke in a tone of settled conviction, the 
result of long considering on the subject, and her 
verdict was received by her three younger sisters 
with unmistakable satisfaction. For three days, 
“ Molly’s adventure,” as Daisy called it, had been 
the chief topic of conversation in the nursery. From 
the moment when, on their return from church on 
Sunday morning, Molly and Maud had poured the 
wonderful story into their incredulous ears, Dulcie 
and Daisy had thought of little else. Many and 
long had been the discussions, always held in low 
voices, and in the seclusion of their own room. At 
first Daisy had been of the opinion that Grandma 
must be told. Suppose a burglar should make his 
way through the mysterious door some night,” she 
suggested, “ and carry off the family silver ! ” But 
this objection to the keeping of their secret had been 

71 


72 FOC/JR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

overruled by Molly, who pointed out that the burglar 
would first be obliged to break into the house next 
door, and that it was most unlikely that he would 
discover the existence of the door in the wall. The 
people in the boarding-house were certainly not 
burglars, and as nobody had ever thought of open- 
ing the door before, why were they not as safe now 
as they had ever been? Still Daisy was not alto- 
gether convinced, and it was only after many hours 
of doubt and uncertainty that she finally yielded to 
the strong persuasions of her sisters. 

Just think, it’s the first real secret we ever had,” 
pleaded Molly. 

“ It was my secret first,” chimed in Maud, and 
I needn’t have told any of you if I hadn’t wanted 
to. If you tell, Daisy, I think you’re the meanest 
girl in the world.” And Maud — who was still feel- 
ing rather poorly — began to cry. 

But at last even Daisy ceased to protest. One 
stipulation she made, however, and that was to be 
allowed to write the whole story to Papa. 

If Papa says we can keep the secret,” she said, 
“ it will be all right, but if he thinks Grandma ought 
to know, we shall have to tell her.” 

“ It will take a long time to get an answer from 
China,” said Dulcie, cheerfully, “ and Papa always 
understands things.” 

So Daisy wrote her letter, and felt decidedly more 
comfortable after it was mailed. And now it was 


MISS POLLY'S STORY 


73 


Wednesday night, and the children were enjoying 
the rare treat of an evening to themselves. Grandma 
and Aunt Kate had gone to dine with their minister 
and his wife, and were to attend a missionary meet- 
ing afterwards, so as soon as they finished their 
rather meager supper, they had retired to their own 
premises, which was more agreeable than spending a 
silent evening down-stairs. For the past fifteen min- 
utes, they had been eagerly discussing the propriety 
of making a call on their interesting next-door 
neighbor. 

'' You promised to take me just as soon as I was 
well enough,” pleaded Maud, “ and I’m all well now. 
Grandma says I may go out to-morrow if it doesn’t 
rain. I think we ought to go and thank her for 
being so kind. She sang ‘ Only an Armor-Bearer * 
six times on Sunday, and she’s sung all my favorite 
week-day songs, too.” 

I think it’s our duty to go,” said Molly, virtu- 
ously. “ Girls in books always go to see cripples 
and invalids. They read the Bible to them, and 
bring them nice things to eat. Perhaps we could 
‘ minister ’ to her, like that girl in ‘ Ministering 
Children.’ ” 

“We haven’t any nice things to take her to eat,” 
said Daisy, with a sigh. “We might read the Bible 
to her, though. Did she seem like a very religious 
lady, Molly? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Molly. “ She didn’t talk 


74 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


about religious things, but Tm sure she’s very good. 
She said she loved her books, so perhaps she’d 
rather read the Bible to herself.” 

'' I think she must be like ‘ Cousin Helen ’ in 
‘ What Katy Did,’ ” decided Dulcie. “ You know 
she was always very cheerful, and everybody loved 
her. I don’t remember that she was particularly 
religious. I feel perfectly sure Papa would like to 
have us go to see her.” 

‘'Of course he would,” affirmed Molly, with con- 
viction. “ Grandma wouldn’t, though, because she 
never wants us to go and see anybody. I think 
sometimes Grandma just tries to be disagreeable.” 

“ I don’t think we ought to say such things,” said 
Daisy, gravely. “ You know what Papa told us 
about being loyal.” 

“ Well, we don’t have to be loyal to Grandma 
when we’re all by ourselves,” retorted Molly. “ It’s 
hard enough to remember when we’re with people, 
like Uncle Stephen and Miss Leslie. We can say 
what we like to each other, and it’s a great comfort.” 

“ Don’t argue, children,” reproved Dulcie, in her 
elder sister tone. “ I’ve thought it over a lot, and 
I’ve decided that it really is our duty to go and call 
on the singing lady.” 

“Let’s go now, right away,” exclaimed Maud, 
joyfully, springing to her feet. 

Dulcie glanced at the clock. 

“ It’s only a little after seven,” she said, reflect- 


M/SS POLLY'S STORY 


75 


ively. '' Mary's out, and Bridget never comes up- 
stairs till bedtime. Yes, I think we might go now/' 

“ Come along, then,” cried Maud, already half- 
way to the door. She was promptly followed by 
Molly, and Daisy, though still a little reluctant, did 
not linger far behind. But Dulcie still hesitated. 

“We ought to take her a present,” she said. 
“ People always take presents to cripples.” 

“ What sort of a present? ” Molly inquired anx- 
iously. 

“ Flowers, or a Bible, or — or — oh, I don’t know 
exactly ; something very nice and appropriate.” 

The other three glanced helplessly around the 
room, and their faces fell. 

“ But we haven’t any flowers,” said Molly, “ and 
I’m quite sure Miss Polly has a Bible. We couldn’t 
give her ours, anyway, because it belonged to 
Mamma. I don’t believe we really have to take a 
present, Dulcie. I think she’ll be glad to see us, 
even if we haven’t got anything for her.” 

“ You don’t suppose she’d care for a paper doll? ” 
suggested Maud. “ Of course I know she’s a 
grown-up lady, but if she has to sit still in a chair 
all the time, she might enjoy cutting out paper 
dresses. I’d take her my prettiest one if you think 
she’d like it.” 

Dulcie and Molly laughed, and Daisy said 
kindly: 

“ I’m afraid a paper doll wouldn’t do, Maudie, 


76 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

though it was very sweet of you to think of it 
We’ll have to go without a present this time, but 
perhaps we can make her a book-mark, or something 
like that, before we go again.” 

That question being settled, there seemed nothing 
further to wait for, so, with fast-beating hearts, the 
four little girls set forth on their adventure. At the 
trunk-room door Maud drew back. 

“ I didn’t know it was going to be so dark,” she 
protested. I don’t like dark places.” 

'' Nonsense,” said Dulcie, impatiently. “ Keep 
hold of Daisy’s hand, and you won’t be scared.” 
And, as the eldest member of the party, Dulcie ad- 
vanced firmly into the trunk-room. 

It required some fumbling to discover the knob of 
the mysterious door, as the only light was the dim 
reflection from a single gas-jet in the hall, but when 
found it turned easily, and the next moment they 
had plunged into the still greater darkness of the 
housemaid’s closet next door. 

Molly tumbled over a step-ladder, and Maud ut- 
tered a suppressed scream, but Dulcie pressed on 
steadily ahead. 

“This is the way. out,” she announced in an ex- 
cited whisper ; “ I feel the door. Oh, I hope it isn’t 
locked. No, it’s all right ; here’s the handle. Gh ! ” 
And, with a great gasp, Dulcie stepped out into the 
lighted hall of the boarding-house. 

“That’s her room,” whispered Molly, pointing 


MISS POLLY'S STORY 

to one of the closed doors. “ Shall I knock, or will 
you, Dulcie 

'' You’d better,” said Dulcie. You know her, 
and we don’t. Be sure not to forget to intro- 
duce us.” 

Molly stepped forward, and for the second time, 
tapped softly at the singing lady’s ” door. There 
was a moment’s pause, and then the sweet voice they 
had all so often heard singing the old-fashioned 
ballads they loved, called a cheerful ‘‘ Come in,” and 
Molly turned the handle. 

Miss Polly was in her wheel-chair, which had been 
pushed under the rather high chandelier in the centre 
of the room. She had evidently been reading, but 
at the children’s entrance she laid down her book, 
and with a little cry of pleasure, held out both hands 
in greeting. 

Why, it’s my little neighbors from next door,” 
she said joyfully. “ Oh, but I am glad to see you, 
dears. And did you all come through the door in 
the wall ? ” 

“Yes, we did,” said Molly; and, mindful of 
Dulcie’s instruction, she added, primly, “ These are 
my three sisters; Dulcie, Daisy, and Maud. We 
came to thank you for being so kind about singing 
while Maud was in bed, with her sore throat.” 

“ You are all most welcome, I am sure,” said Miss 
Polly, heartily, her pretty face fairly beaming with 
pleasure. “ It’s never any trouble to me to sing. I 


78 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


love music more than almost anything else in the 
world. I would like to be at my piano all day if it 
were not for fear of troubling the other boarders.’’ 

“ I’m sure it couldn’t trouble anybody,” said 
Dulcie, politely. “We love it.” 

“ You are very kind to say so, dear, but you see 
people don’t all feel the same way about things. 
There was an old gentleman on this floor last year 
who objected very much. He said music made him 
nervous, and threatened to leave if he ever heard the 
piano when he was in his room. Miss Collins was 
very sorry, but of course she couldn’t run the risk 
of losing a boarder, so I had to be very careful. 
Fortunately, he has gone away now, and the young 
man who occupies the room this winter is scarcely 
ever at home. Now, won’t you all sit down and 
make me a nice little visit? I expected to be alone 
all the evening, for Miss Collins told me she was 
going to the theatre, and she is about my only vis- 
itor. I am sorry I haven’t more chairs to offer you. 
You sec, I have so few visitors, it seemed foolish to 
waste chairs, so I let Miss Collins take some that 
belonged in this room and use them somewhere else. 
Perhaps two of you won’t object to sitting on the 
bed.” 

“We like sitting on beds very much,” remarked 
Maud, as she and Molly had promptly seated them- 
selves. “Your bed is made up now, isn’t it? 
Molly said it wasn’t the other day.” 


MISS POLLY'S STORY 


79 


** Maud ! '' cried Molly, blushing, but Miss Polly 
only smiled. 

“ That was because the chambermaid had gone to 
church,’^ she explained. ‘‘ Maggie is a nice girl, 
and does many kind things for me every day, but 
she is very busy, and sometimes I have to wait a 
little while, which is only right and natural.^' 

You must excuse Maud,” apologized Dulcie. 

She doesn’t mean to be rude, but she isn’t eight 
yet. I think this is a very pretty room. May I 
look at your books? I love books.” 

To be sure you may, and borrow any that you 
like. I am afraid a good many of my books are 
rather dry for a little girl, but I have ‘ The Wide 
Wide World,’ and ‘The Lamplighter,’ and Grace 
Aguilar’s works. You might enjoy some of 
those.” 

Dulcie went over to the bookcase, and was soon 
absorbed in examining its contents, but the other 
three remained in their seats, and prepared to make 
themselves agreeable. 

“ It’s been a very pleasant day,” observed Dulcie, 
by way of starting the conversation. “ We’ve been 
playing in the square. We often go there to play.” 

“ It must be a very pleasant place to play in,” 
said Miss Polly. “ I sometimes wish this house 
was opposite the park, for it would be so pleasant to 
see the green trees in summer. But one cannot have 
everything, and I am so comfortable here, in this 


So FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


nice room, that it doesn’t seem quite right to wish 
for anything more.” 

“ Don’t you ever go out at all ? ” asked Daisy, 
and she looked so distressed that Miss Polly has- 
tened to say cheerfully: 

“ Well, no, dear. You see, it couldn’t be man- 
aged very easily. It would be very difficult to get 
my chair down all these stairs, even if there were 
any one to carry me, which of course there isn’t.” 

“ I shouldn’t think you could be very heavy,” said 
Molly, with a critical glance at the tiny figure in the 
wheel-chair. “If somebody carried you down- 
stairs, couldn’t you go for a drive in a carriage? 
Central Park is lovely, and there are beautiful trees 
there. Lizzie, our nurse, used to take us to Central 
Park very often. We went on the Sixth Avenue 
elevated road, and it was great fun, but I don’t sup- 
pose you could go that way.” 

Miss Polly smiled rather sadly. 

“ I am afraid not,” she said. “ A carriage would 
be different, but carriages cost money, you know.” 

“ I wish we had a carriage,” said Daisy, regret- 
fully. “We’d take you out every day if we had. 
Papa had a horse and carriage when we lived in 
Danby, before Mamma died, but that was a long 
time ago. We don’t mind not having one ourselves, 
because we like the stages and the elevated just as 
well, but it would be lovely to take you to Centra] 
Park.” 


MISS POLLY'S STORY 


8i 


“ Thank you, dear, but I appreciate the kind 
thought just as much as I should the drive. There 
is just one reason why I should like to be able to get 
out occasionally; it would give me more to write 
about in my letters to Tom.” 

‘‘ Who is Tom ? ” inquired Daisy, with interest. 

‘‘ My dear brother ; the only near relative I have 
in the world. I write to him every week, and some- 
times it is a little difficult to make my letters interest- 
ing. Tom isn’t particularly fond of books, and I 
am afraid it might bore him to hear about what I am 
reading. Sometimes I am almost afraid he may 
begin to suspect that I don’t get about as I used to.” 

Why, doesn’t he know ? ” gasped Daisy ; and 
Dulcie, who had been glancing over '‘A Mother’s 
Recompense,” suddenly closed her book, and re- 
glarded Miss Polly with increased interest. 

Miss Polly blushed, and looked a little embar- 
rassed. 

“ No, dear, he doesn’t,” she confessed. “ You 
see, I have never been able to bring myself to the 
point of telling him. You see, he was in Chicago 
when I met with my accident, and he had just writ- 
ten me of his engagement to such a dear girl. He 
was so happy, and if he had known about me, it 
would have spoiled everything. Tom is such a 
sweet, unselfish boy. Nothing in the world would 
have kept him away from me. He would have 
given up his position, where he was doing so well, 


82 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


and come home to take care of me. I couldn’t let 
him do that, now, could I ? Of course, he had to be 
told of the accident, but I wouldn’t let any one write 
him how serious it was, and when I left the hospital, 
and was able to write myself, he thought I was quite 
well again. I meant to tell him later, but somehow 
the right time never seemed to come. Tom and 
Helen are married now, and have a baby, a dear 
little girl, whom they have named for me. I was so 
happy when that news came that I cried — wasn’t I 
silly?” 

“ But doesn’t your brother ever come to see 
you? ” Dulcie asked. 

“ He would if he could, dear, but he can’t leave 
his business very well, and besides, it costs a good 
deal to come all the way from Chicago to New York 
and back. He sends me presents, though, such 
beautiful presents, and last summer, after the baby 
came, he and Helen wanted me to come and make 
them a long visit. He offered to pay all my ex- 
penses, and Helen wrote me such a cordial invita- 
tion. Of course, I couldn’t go, and I had to pre- 
tend that I was too busy to leave New York. You 
see, Tom thinks I am still giving music lessons, as I 
did before my accident.” 

But that isn’t true,” objected Daisy, looking 
rather shocked. 

A shadow crossed Miss Polly’s bright face. 

“ I know it, dear,” she said, with a sigh, and 


MISS POLLY'S STORY 


83 


that^s the hardest part of it all. My father was a 
minister, and Tom and I were brought up always to 
speak the truth. It worries me a great deal to have 
to deceive Tom as I do, but even that seems better 
than being a burden to him, as I should be if he 
knew the truth. He had such a hard struggle at 
first, but he is doing splendidly now, and he and 
Helen are so ideally happy. They have just bought 
a little house on the Lake Shore, in one of the pret- 
tiest suburbs of Chicago. Tom sent me a photo- 
graph of it, with Helen and the baby on the porch. 
They say there's a dear little room for me, when- 
ever I can spare the time to make them a visit. They 
little know what a troublesome visitor I should be." 
Miss Polly's bright voice broke suddenly, and her 
sentence ended in a sigh. 

I don't believe you would be a troublesome vis- 
itor at all," said Daisy, laying a kind little hand on 
Miss Polly's knee. I think they would just love 
having you ; don't you, Dulcie ? " 

“ Yes," agreed Dulcie, “ I'm perfectly sure of it. 
But, Miss Polly, would you mind telling us what 
you write about every week, and how you keep your 
brother from finding out? " 

Miss Polly smiled, but she looked a little troubled, 
too, and the color deepened in her cheeks. 

“ I'm afraid you will think me a very foolish 
person," she said, “ but I'll tell you all about it from 
the beginning, and then perhaps you will understand 


84 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

a little better. Tom and I were born in a Vermont 
village, where our father was minister of the Con- 
gregational Church for a good many years. My 
mother died when we were both little, and we were 
brought up by an old housekeeper, who was devoted 
to us. Tom is two years older than I, and ever 
since I can remember, I have loved him better than 
any one else in the world. My father was a good 
man, but rather stern and unapproachable, and not 
particularly fond of children. Tom was a bright 
boy, always full of fun and mischief, but he didn’t 
care very much about study, and my father — who 
was a great student himself — was constantly re- 
proaching him for not doing better at school. He 
wanted Tom to study for the ministry, but the boy 
had no taste for preaching. He went to college to 
please Father, but at the end of his sophomore year 
he had so many conditions to make up that Father 
was very angry, and refused to let him go back the 
next term, so Tom decided to go West and try to 
make his fortune. That was eight years ago, and 
he was just twenty then. He had rather a hard 
time at first, but after a year or two, he settled in 
Chicago, where he has lived ever since. He came 
home twice for a visit. The last time was three 
years and a half ago, when Father died. Father 
wasn’t a rich man — country ministers never are rich 
men — but all he had was divided equally between 
Tom and me. Tom wouldn’t take a penny. He 


MISS POLLY^S STORY 


85 


said he was quite able to support himself, and that I 
must have all Father’s money. It was very gener- 
ous of him, and I tried my best to make him take 
his share, but he is an obstinate boy, and when he 
has once made up his mind to do a thing, nothing in 
this world will change him. So in the end I had to 
give in, and he went back to Chicago. He wanted 
me to go with him, but I’d set my heart on coming 
to New York to study music and give lessons. Of 
course, I had to leave the parsonage, where Tom and 
I were born, and after spending the summer with 
some friends, I came here to New York in the fall 
and started work. It wasn’t quite as easy as I had 
expected, but I managed to get a few pupils, and the 
money I earned paid for my own lessons. I was 
very happy all that winter, and then — and then I 
met with my accident.” 

Miss Polly paused for a moment, and the look in 
her eyes was very sad, but when she went on again, 
her voice was as cheerful as ever. 

'' Of course there was no more work for me after 
that, and if it hadn’t been for the money Tom had 
made me accept, things would have been much 
harder than they were. I had been boarding up- 
town before the accident, but when I was in the hos- 
pital, I wrote to Miss Collins — who used to live at 
Pine Brook, and was a friend of my mother’s — and 
asked if she could give me a room in her house. I 
thought it would be pleasanter than living with 


86 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


complete strangers. She was very kind, and offered 
me this lovely room, which happened to be vacant 
just then, so as soon as I was able to leave the hos- 
pital, I was brought here, and here I have been ever 
since. I have never been down-stairs since the day 
I was carried up, but Miss Collins lets me have my 
dear piano, and that is my greatest joy.” 

‘‘ But you haven’t told us about the letters to your 
brother,” said Dulcie. 

I’m just coming to that, my dear. You see, 
when I first came to New York, I used to write Tom 
about my pupils, and he got to know their names, 
and would ask questions about them in his letters. 
Well, afterwards, I had to keep on writing about the 
same things, or he would have thought it strange. 
I have to use a good deal of imagination, because I 
have never seen any of those people since my acci- 
dent.” 

“ You mean you make up things,” said Dulcie, 
“ just as if you were writing a story.” 

Miss Polly nodded. 

“ That’s just it,” she said. ‘‘ I used to write 
stones when I was a little girl, though, of course, 
none of them were worth anything. I have made 
up all sorts of stories about those old pupils of mine. 
I don’t know what they would say if they ever heard 
of them, but they are all pleasant stories, so perhaps 
they wouldn’t object very much. Sometimes I am 
able to write something that is really true. One of 


MISS POLLY'S STORY 


87 


the girls I taught was married this winter. I saw 
an account of the wedding in the paper, and I cut it 
out and sent it to Tom in a letter. I was afraid I 
had made a mistake, though, when Tom wrote that 
Helen wanted to know what I wore to the wedding. 
I had to invent a costume, and that wasn’t easy, for 
I know very little about the fashions nowadays.” 
And Miss Polly glanced down at her plain blue 
wrapper with a rather sad smile. 

I think you are the most wonderful person I 
ever heard of,” declared Dulcie, with shining eyes. 

“ But just think how your brother will feel when 
he finds out,” said Daisy ; “ he will find out some- 
time, won’t he ? ” 

I am afraid he will, and that is what worries 
me. There is one comfort, though; it won’t be 
quite as bad as it would have been at first, for Tom 
is doing better in business now, and the burden 
might not seem so very great.” 

** I don’t believe he would think it a burden at all, 
and I think you ought to tell him, I really do,” said 
Daisy, with unusual firmness. 

Miss Polly shook her head. 

Not yet, dear,” she said ; “ some day, perhaps, 
but not just yet.” 

For a moment nobody spoke, and then Maud’s 
voice broke the silence. ‘‘Won’t you please sing 
‘Darby and Joan’?” she inquired in a rather 
sleepy little voice. Maud was only seven, and she 


88 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

had not found Miss Polly’s reminiscences quite so 
absorbing as her elder sisters had done. 

‘‘To be sure I will,” said Miss Polly, and in a 
moment she had pushed the wheel-chair across the 
room to the piano. 

Then followed a very pleasant half-hour. Miss 
Polly sang all their favorite ballads, greatly to every- 
body’s enjoyment, especially Maud’s. The little girl 
quite forgot that she was sleepy, and stood by the 
piano, drinking in every note, and looking so happy 
that Miss Polly regarded her with growing interest. 

“You love music, don’t you, dear?” she asked, 
kindly, at the close of “ Twickenham Ferry.” 

“ Oh, yes,” said Maud, eagerly ; “ I love it when 
I’m on the other side of the wall, but I love it even 
better when I’m on this side.” 

Everybody laughed, and then Daisy looked at the 
clock, and rose reluctantly. 

“ I’m dreadfully sorry,” she said, “ but I’m afraid 
we ought to go. It’s nearly half-past eight, and 
Grandma always sends us to bed at eight.” 

Miss Polly looked sorry, but made no objec- 
tions. 

“ You must do as your grandmother wishes,” she 
said, “ but I hope you will be able to come again very 
soon.” 

“ Oh, we will, we will,” promised the four little 
girls, and then, to every one’s surprise, Maud — who 
was not usually a demonstrative child — suddenly 


MISS POLLY'S STORY 89 

lifted her face and kissed the little lady in the wheel- 
chair. 

Miss Polly fairly beamed with pleasure, and yet 
there were tears in her eyes, too, as she returned 
Maud’s kiss. 

‘‘You dear little girl!” she exclaimed, a trifle 
unsteadily. “ Why, no one has kissed me since — 
oh, not in ever so long, and it’s so very sweet to be 
loved.” 

“May we kiss you too?” inquired Dulcie, im- 
pulsively. 

Miss Polly held out her arms. 

“ Indeed you may,” she said, heartily. “ You 
have given me a beautiful evening, and it will be 
quite an exciting story to write Tom next Sunday, 
how four dear little neighbors came to see me, 
through a mysterious door in a wall.” 

“ I can’t help whether Grandma would approve or 
not,” said Dulcie, when they were back in the 
nursery. “ I am sure Papa and Mamma would 
want us to go and see that poor dear little Miss Polly 
just as often as we could. And, after all. Papa is 
the person we have to mind.” 

“ He’ll know all about it when he gets my letter,” 
said Daisy, in a tone of satisfaction. “ I think we 
might write Uncle Stephen and Miss Leslie about 
it, too ; I’m sure they would be interested, and they 
would never tell Grandma. I know Miss Polly 
must be a very lovely Christian, even if she doesn’t 


90 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


tell her brother every bit of the truth. Just think of 
having to stay in one room all the time, and never 
being able to get out of a wheel-chair. Nobody else 
could bear it as she does. I’m quite sure it’s our 
duty to go and see her.” 

‘‘ I don’t know which I like best, Miss Leslie or 
Miss Polly,” remarked Molly, reflectively. 

“ I do,” cried Maud ; ‘‘ I think Miss Polly is the 
loveliest lady in the world, and I’m going to ‘ min- 
ister ’ to her, the way you said. I don’t know what 
' ministering ’ means, but I’m going to find out, and 
then I’ll do it just as hard as I can.” 


CHAPTER VI 


PAUL 

I T was Grandma who made the exciting an- 
nouncement at the breakfast table, one morning 
about ten days later. 

‘‘Julia is coming to New York next week,'’ she 
remarked to Aunt Kate, looking up from a letter 
she was reading, “ and she wants to bring Paul with 
her." 

“ Oh, how exciting ! " cried Molly, dropping her 
spoon into the oatmeal in the excitement of the 
moment. “ You'll let them come, won’t you. 
Grandma ? " 

Grandma frowned. One of her strictest rules 
was that children were not to talk at meal times. 

“ Certainly my daughter is always welcome to her 
mother's house,” she said, coldly, and Molly, very 
much embarrassed, dropped her eyes to the table- 
cloth. 

Julia was Grandma's married daughter, Mrs. 
Chester, who lived in Boston, and whose only child 
Paul had long been a subject of considerable interest 
to the four little girls. They had never seen Paul, 

91 


92 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


but according to his mother — who generally paid 
flying visits to her family in New York several times 
a year — he was a very remarkable little boy. Dulcie 
glanced at Aunt Kate, to see how she was taking 
the news, but her somewhat inexpressive face ap- 
peared quite unruffled. 

“ Paul hasn’t been very well, it seems,” Mrs. 
Winslow went on, and the doctor advises change 
of air. Julia has taken him out of school for a 
month, and wants to bring him here.” 

I hope Julia isn’t as fussy over the boy as she 
used to be,” said Aunt Kate, buttering a slice of 
toast as she spoke. “ He always seemed to me 
about as strong as any child of his age, and I know 
his father thinks he is. He told me the last time I 
was in Boston that Julia coddles Paul entirely too 
much.” 

‘‘ Well, Paul is an only child,” said Grandma, 
with unusual indulgence for her. Julia has never 
recovered from the death of the other baby.” 

Aunt Kate took up the report of the Missionary 
Society, which had arrived in the morning’s mail, 
and nothing more was said on the subject of the ex- 
pected guests just then, but as soon as the children 
were safely out of Grandma’s presence they began 
chattering all at once. 

Won’t it be fun to have a little boy come to stay 
with us ? ” cried Molly, before they were half-way 
up-stairs. 


PAUL 93 

I hope he will be a nice boy,” said Dulcie, a little 
doubtfully. Tm afraid he’s pretty spoiled.” 

Oh, it will be nice to have him even if he is 
spoiled,” affirmed Daisy. He must be an awfully 
clever boy, anyway. Aunt Julia says he speaks 
French and German, and he’s read, I don’t know 
how many books.” 

Molly sighed. 

'' I’m afraid he’ll be terribly studious,” she said, 
'' and it won’t do for us to say we don’t like lessons, 
or he’ll think us so stupid. Still, it’s going to be 
very interesting, and I’m awfully glad he’s coming.” 

“ I’m afraid we won’t be able to go and see Miss 
Polly while he’s here,” said Daisy, regretfully. 
“We can’t tell our secret to any more people, you 
know.” 

This was certainly a drawback. Going to see 
Miss Polly had become one of their greatest pleas- 
ures. They had made several calls since that first 
evening, and were already growing very fond of the 
brave, unselfish little woman, who bore her troubles 
so uncomplainingly, and was always so bright and 
merry. 

“ Perhaps Paul will be such a nice boy that we 
shall be able to trust him,” Molly suggested, but 
Dulcie and Daisy shook their heads. 

For the next few days little was talked of by the 
children except the arrival of the expected visitors. 

“ It’s almost like having a book person come to 


94 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

stay with us,” said Molly. ‘‘ WeVe heard so much 
about Paul, but we didn’t think we should ever 
really know him. Of course he’ll like Dulcie, she’s 
so clever, but I don’t suppose he’ll care very much 
about the rest of us.” 

“ He ought to like Daisy,” said Maud, “ because 
they’re both ten and a half. Don’t people generally 
like each other when they’re just the same age? ” 

I don’t know,” said Molly, but we’ll find out 
pretty soon, and, oh, isn’t it exciting? ” 

A very learned boy is coming to stay with us,” 
Molly — who was fond of using fine words — told 
Miss Hammond, the daily governess. ‘‘ He speaks 
French and German, and learned the multiplication 
table all by himself when he was only five. He 
could read the Bible perfectly before he was seven.” 

Molly expected Miss Hammond to be much im- 
pressed, and was somewhat crestfallen when the 
only answer she received was the not very comfort- 
ing remark that it was a pity some little girls didn’t 
know their tables better. 

It was Friday when Mrs. Chester’s letter came, 
and on the following Wednesday the visitors ar- 
rived. The four children were watching from the 
parlor window, and as the cab drew up, there was a 
simultaneous rush for the front door. Grandma 
and Aunt Kate had gone to the station to meet the 
travellers, and as the party came up the steps, all 
eyes were fixed eagerly upon Paul. He was a tall, 


PAUL 


95 


pale boy, with a rather discontented expression, and 
a shock of reddish brown hair. He was not a hand- 
some boy, which was something of a shock, as his 
mother’s descriptions had led them to expect a sort 
of young Adonis, but he shook hands politely, and 
murmured a few rather unintelligible words, in an- 
swer to Dulcie’s eager assurances of how delighted 
they all were to see him. Mrs. Chester, a pale, lan- 
guid lady, who talked a great deal about her health, 
greeted the little girls kindly, and then they all went 
up-stairs together. 

“ May Paul come to the nursery with us ? ” Molly 
inquired, as they reached the guest-room door. 

Not now,” Paul’s mother answered. ‘‘ He is 
tired from his journey, and must take a little rest 
before dinner.” 

“ I don’t want to rest ; I’m not tired,” protested 
Paul, in such a fretful tone that the children re- 
garded him in astonishment. I want to go with 
them.” 

'' Oh, no, darling, you must lie down first for half 
an hour. You and the little girls can have a happy 
time together after dinner.” 

Paul looked anything but pleased, but was forced 
to submit, and the children saw the door of the 
guest-room resolutely closed against them. 

How funny to have to lie down in the day- 
time,” said Maud, as they proceeded on their way 
up-stairs. ‘‘ Is Paul sick ? ” 


96 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


'' I think he must be rather delicate/' answered 
Daisy. ‘‘ Perhaps he studies too much." 

“ But Dulcie studies a lot, too," persisted Maud, 
“ and she never lies down in the daytime." 

“ I think Aunt Julia is a very fussy lady," said 
Molly. “ Don't you remember how she always had 
to take medicine before her meals the last time she 
was here ? She took afternoon naps, and we had to 
keep very quiet while she was asleep. Perhaps she's 
fussy about Paul, too." 

Aunt Julia certainly was “ fussy " about Paul, as 
the children very soon discovered. When Paul ap- 
peared at dinner, with a clean face, but otherwise 
unchanged, his mother told Grandma that she was 
obliged to be very particular about his diet. 

“ He will eat so few things," she said. “ O 
dear! I have forgotten to bring down his tonic. 
Don’t you want to run up-stairs for it, Paul darling ? 
The bottle is on mother’s bureau." 

“ No, I don't," replied Paul, with decision. “ T 
hate that nasty stuff, and the doctor said I wouldn’t 
need to take it any more when I had a change of 
air." 

“ Oh, my boy,” remonstrated his mother, “ the 
doctor didn’t mean that you could leave it off at 
once. Now run and bring me the bottle, like a good 
child, and let these little girls see how obedient you 
are.” 

“ I’ll get it if Paul is tired,” proposed Molly good- 


PAUL 97 

naturedly, and somewhat to the children’s surprise 
the offer was accepted. 

Paul swallowed the medicine, over which he made 
a wry face, and dinner began. 

“ Take your soup, Paul dear,” his mother admon- 
ished gently ; “ you are only playing with it.” 

“ There’s rice in it,” objected Paul; “ I hate rice.” 

Grandma frowned. 

Little boys should, learn to eat what is put before 
them, and not make remarks about their food,” she 
said, reprovingly. If this remark had been ad- 
dressed to Molly or Maud, she would have been re- 
duced to instant submission. Not so Paul. 

‘‘ I never eat things I don’t like,” he said, without 
the slightest sign of embarrassment. ‘‘ A great 
many things disagree with me, don’t they. 
Mother? ” 

I am afraid they do,” answered Mrs. Chester, 
with a sigh. ‘‘ And that reminds me. Mother, he 
must have squeezed meat every day for his lunch, 
and I always let him have ice-cream at least three 
times a week. The doctor considers it good for 
him.” 

Maud’s lips moved, and the other children were 
sure they could read the words Goody, goody ! ” 
but the grown-ups noticed nothing, and if Grandma 
made no promises, she at least made no objections, 
which, as Molly said afterwards, was almost as good 
as saying yes. It was wonderful how much more 


98 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

lenient Grandma was to Paul than she had ever been 
to the four little girls. 

‘‘ Well, Paul, what have you been reading lately ? ” 
inquired Aunt Kate, when the soup question had 
been finally settled, by Mary’s taking the plate away 
to the pantry, in order to remove the objectionable 
rice. 

Oh, I don’t know,” answered her nephew, 
rather sulkily; “ nothing much, I guess.” 

“ My darling Paul,” cried his mother in horrified 
reproach, “ what do you mean ? Tell Aunt Kate at 
once about all the beautiful books you have read 
since you have been ill. He reads French just as 
well as English, you know, Kate. You must hear 
him to-morrow. What was that interesting story 
you were reading on the train to-day, Paul ? ” 

Sans Famille/' said Paul, pronouncing the 
words with a decidedly English accent. 

‘Hndeed?” said Aunt Kate. “Did you enjoy 
it?” 

“ I didn’t pay much attention to it,” returned 
Paul, unblushingly ; “ I hate French.” 

Aunt Kate smiled sarcastically, and even Grand- 
ma’s stern face relaxed a little, but Paul’s mother 
looked really pained. 

“ Don’t notice him,” she said apologetically. 
“ Like all sensitive children, he objects to showing 
off. He really adores his French books.” 

Paul grew suddenly scarlet. 


PAUL 


99 


“ I do not ! he proclaimed loudly. “ I don’t 
mind showing off, but I hate French books, and 
most English ones, too.” 

“ That will do, Paul,” said Grandma, who could 
not endure impertinence even from her only grand- 
son. “ Children who speak in that tone are sent 
away from the table.” 

Paul looked rather surprised, but wisely refrained 
from arguing the point, and the meal proceeded 
without any further unpleasantness. Paul refused 
to touch turnip, and informed his mother in a low 
voice that he hated baked custard, but if Grandma 
heard, she made no remark. 

May we take Paul up-stairs. Grandma ? ” Dulcie 
inquired, eagerly, as they rose from the table. 
“ Perhaps he would like to play lotto.” 

“ Yes, I suppose you may as well,” answered Mrs. 
Winslow, who evidently had her doubts as to how 
Paul would endure the usual evening routine in 
the dining-room. “ What time does he go to bed, 
Julia? ” 

Eight o’clock precisely,” her daughter an- 
swered, but I think he had better go a little earlier 
to-night. He must be tired from the journey. Go 
up-stairs with the children, darling, and Mother will 
call you in half an hour.” 

Now we’ve really got you to ourselves at last,” 
said Dulcie, joyfully, as they all went up-stairs to- 
gether. “ We’ve been talking about your coming 


100 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


ever since your mother's letter came last week. You 
see, we felt as if we knew you ; we've heard so much 
about you." 

Paul looked interested. “ What sort of things 
have you heard about me ? " he inquired. 

'' Oh, about how clever you are ; how you learned 
to read the Bible when you were so little, and could 
say all your tables when you were five, and — oh, lots 
of interesting things." 

Paul grinned. 

Pm not very clever," he admitted condescend- 
ingly. “ Mother likes to tell people I am, but I'm 
not really. I read a good many books, but I'd much 
rather play with the boys in the streets, only Mother 
won't let me. She's afraid I'll catch some disease. 
I've had measles and mumps, and chickenpox, but 
I've got to have scarlet fever and diphtheria yet, and 
Mother's terribly afraid of those two. Is this your 
room, and do you all sleep here together ? " 

Dulcie admitted that they did, and Daisy added 
cheerfully, as she turned up the gas: 

'' It's a very big room, you see, and we love being 
all together." 

Paul glanced about him rather critically. 

'' You haven't any pictures on the walls," he re- 
marked. My room at home is full of pictures. 
They're all copies of the old masters, and Mother 
makes me learn a lot of stuff about the fellows who 
painted them. I hate it." 


PAUL 


101 


I should think it would be very interesting,” said 
Dulcie. “ I love to learn about people.” 

'' You wouldn’t if you lived with Mother. She’s 
always making me learn things, and then she tells 
people, and I have to show off. I say, what’s an 
‘ incumbrance ’ ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Dulcie, looking puzzled. 
“ What makes you ask ? ” 

“ Because you’re all one. Mother said so. She 
was talking to Father last night, and she said you 
were all a terrible incumbrance to Grandma.” 

Dulcie reddened. 

I don’t know what it means,” she said, ‘‘ but I’m 
sure it isn’t anything nice, and I don’t think you are 
very polite to repeat it. Don’t you know it isn’t 
honorable to repeat things you hear people say? 
Papa never allows us to do it, and he is a very hon- 
orable man.” 

Paul looked rather embarrassed. 

‘‘ My father’s a very honorable man, too,” he an- 
nounced, indignantly. He says Mother will make 
a milksop of me. Do you know what a milksop 
is?” 

‘‘ No, I don’t,” admitted Dulcie, ‘‘ but I shouldn’t 
like to be one.” 

'' Well, I guess it’s just as bad as being an incum- 
brance. Anyway, you can’t help being that, and it 
isn’t your fault. Father said, ‘ Poor little chicks. 
I’m sorry for them,’ and he wouldn’t have said 


102 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

that if it had been your fault. You’d like my 
father.” 

“We do know him,” said Daisy. “ He came 
with Aunt Julia once, and he brought us some candy. 
We liked him ever so much, he was so kind.” 

“ Come, let’s play lotto,” interrupted Maud, who 
did not find the conversation particularly interesting. 
“ If we don’t begin. Aunt Julia will call Paul before 
we can finish a game.” 

“ What are you doing, Dulcie — why don’t you 
come to bed? ” inquired Daisy from her pillow, an 
hour later. 

“ I’ll come in a minute,” her sister answered, ab- 
sently. “ I’m just looking for something in the dic- 
tionary.” 

There was a short silence. Then Dulcie closed 
the dictionary with a bang, and in another moment 
the light was out, and she had crept into bed beside 
Daisy. The two younger children were already 
asleep. 

“ Was it that word Paul said, you were looking 
for in the dictionary ? ” Daisy whispered, as her sis- 
ter nestled down beside her, and slipped an arm 
round her neck. 

“ Yes,” said Dulcie, shortly. 

“ And did you find it, and was it something very 
horrid?” 

“ It was rather horrid, but not as bad as I was 
afraid it might be. It means about the same thing 


PAUL 


103 


as being a burden. Miss Polly was afraid of being 
a burden to her brother, you know, but it isn’t any- 
thing we can help, so there isn’t any use in talking 
about it. I hate to talk about disagreeable things 
just before I go to sleep. I’ll tell you about that 
last Christmas in Danby, and how Mamma let me 
help dress the tree.” 

All right,” said Daisy, cheerfully. Do you 
think we are going to like Paul ? ” 

“ I think so,” said Dulcie. I was afraid he was 
going to be terribly conceited and stuck-up, but he 
isn’t really. He ought not to repeat things he hears 
his father and mother say, but perhaps nobody has 
ever told him not to. Anyhow, I’m glad he hates 
showing off.” 


CHAPTER VII 


THE STOLEN CHILD 

“TT*S stopped snowing, and Grandma says we 

I may go out and play in the Square,” an- 
nounced Paul, appearing at the nursery door, 
one afternoon a few days later. Daisy and Maud 
can’t go out on account of their colds, but Dulcie 
and Molly can.” 

*^A11 right; I’ll come in a minute, just as soon as I 
finish my letter,” said Dulcie. Molly — who was 
preparing her lessons for Miss Hammond — threw 
down her geography, and sprang to her feet. 

I love going out in the snow,” she cried, joy- 
fully, only I wish we had a sled. The Van Ars- 
dale girls, across the way, have one and I saw them 
hitching on behind a big sleigh, a little while ago, but 
Grandma says it isn’t lady-like to hitch on to sleighs, 
and, anyway, we haven’t got a sled.” 

“We have great times in the Public Gardens at 
home,” said Paul. “ Some boys I know built a 
snow fort last winter, and we used to have regular 
battles. Mother wasn’t going to let me play with 
them at first; she’s always so afraid I’ll take cold, 
but Father made her, and it was great fun. Hurry 
104 


THE STOLEN CHILD 


105 


up with your old letter, Dulcie. Fm so afraid 
Mother may change her mind, and say I can’t go 
out in the dampness. Are you writing to your 
father? ” 

No, she isn’t,” said Daisy ; she’s writing to 
Miss Leslie.” 

Who’s Miss Leslie ? ” 

“A lovely young lady we know. She lives in 
California, and we only saw her once, but she 
asked us to write to her. She and Uncle Stephen 
took us to ' The Pirates of Penzance.’ ” 

“ Is her first name Florence ? ” Paul inquired. 

** Why, yes it is. How did you know ? ” 

I heard Grandma and Aunt Kate talking about 
her, when I was doing my French in Mother’s room, 
the other day.” 

“ I didn’t know they knew her,” said Daisy, look- 
ing very much surprised. “ What were they say- 
ing about her ? ” 

I don’t remember, I wasn’t paying much atten- 
tion, but I think she’s going to marry somebody. I 
was just beginning to listen when Grandma coughed, 
and they stopped talking.” 

By this time Dulcie had finished her letter, and 
all the children were looking much interested. 

'' It must be Uncle Stephen,” said Dulcie. “ Per- 
haps he told them that night before we came down- 
stairs. Oh, I do hope it is Uncle Stephen. It 
would be so lovely to have Miss Leslie for an aunt.” 


I 06 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

“ It wouldn’t do us much good if they lived 
away off in California,” said Daisy, but then they 
might come home sometimes, and invite us for a 
visit.” 

It’s too bad you and Maud can’t go out,” re- 
marked Paul, regarding Daisy sympathetically, as 
Dulcie and Molly went to the closet for their ulsters 
and rubber boots. '' Don’t you suppose Grandma 
would let you if you teased? ” 

No indeed she wouldn’t,” laughed Daisy. ''You 
don’t know Grandma very well if you think that. 
But we don’t mind staying in the house, do we, 
Maud?” 

" Not a bit,” said Maud, looking important and 
mysterious. " We’re going to do something very 
interesting while you’re out.” 

" What are you going to do ? ” inquired Paul, 
curiously. 

" I can’t tell ; it’s a secret. It was my secret first, 
but we all know it now.” 

" I think you might tell me,” said Paul, beginning 
to look offended. " It isn’t polite to have secrets 
from your company.” 

Maud looked troubled, but Daisy hastened to 
intervene. 

“ Girls have lots of secrets they don’t tell boys,” 
she said, pleasantly. "If you and some other boys 
had a secret, you wouldn’t tell us, you know you 
wouldn’t.” 


THE STOLEN CHILD 


107 


“ Maybe I would, and maybe I wouldn’t. The 
trouble about telling girls things is they never can 
keep them to themselves.” 

“ How about boys keeping things to themselves? ” 
asked Daisy, at which seemingly innocent question 
Paul grew suddenly red, and no more was said on 
the subject of secrets. 

Mrs. Chester was waiting for them in the hall. 
She was looking rather worried. 

Now, Paul, darling,” she began anxiously, as 
her small son came running down-stairs, followed 
by Dulcie and Molly, “ you will promise Mother to 
be very careful about those dreadful crossings, won’t 
you? Take good care of him, Dulcie, and don’t let 
him attempt to cross while there is anything in 
sight.” 

“ I’ll take care of him,” promised Dulcie, rather 
proud of the charge, and just then Grandma’s stern 
voice was heard from the head of the stairs. 

‘‘ Don’t be silly, Julia. Those children are quite 
capable of taking care of themselves. They are 
none of them babies. One would think to hear you 
talk that you considered that boy of yours either an 
infant or an idiot.” 

“ Grandma is rather a sensible old lady, even if 
she does scold,” remarked Paul, as they ran down 
the steps. ‘‘ Mother wouldn’t have let me go out at 
all if it hadn’t been for her.” 

“ Grandma doesn’t believe in people making a 


I 08 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


fuss about things/* was Dulcie’s rather guarded 
reply, and Molly added, doubtfully: 

“ I think she*s a little kinder to you than she is 
to us, but then you are her truly grandchild, and 
we’re only steps.” 

Fifth Avenue was a pretty sight that frosty after- 
noon. Children who live in New York in the twen- 
tieth century know little of the pleasures of winter, 
but in 1880 life was quite different. There were 
no snow wagons ” in those days, and the snow lay 
where it fell until a thaw came and melted it. Small 
boys and girls earned pennies by sweeping the cross- 
ings, and after a snowstorm every one who could 
manage to secure a sleigh did so, and the conse- 
quence was that Fifth Avenue, from Washington 
Square to Central Park, was lined with sleighs of 
every description, from the small one-horse cutter 
to the big stage sleigh, drawn by four horses. On 
this February afternoon the scene was a particu- 
larly gay one. The sun had come out, and the trees 
in the Square were all glittering with snow, while 
the constant tinkle of sleigh-bells filled the frosty air. 

“ I wish we could have an adventure,” said Molly, 
as they paused at the corner, waiting for an oppor- 
tunity to cross. “ I don’t feel a bit like just stay- 
ing in the Square, and watching other people having 
fun with their sleds. Oh, look, Dulcie ; there’s the 
stolen child. She’s sweeping the crossing.” 

“What stolen child?” demanded Paul, eagerly. 


THE STOLEN CHILD 


109 


‘'That ragged little girl with the broom/’ said 
Molly. ‘‘ Generally she has a basket, and goes to 
the basement doors to ask for things to eat.” 

“ How do you know she’s been stolen? Did she 
tell you so ? ” 

No, we’ve never spoken to her, but we think she 
must have been. She’s got blue eyes and golden 
hair, just like all the stolen children in books, and 
once we saw her crying. It was when the Van Ars- 
dalcs’ cook slammed the basement gate in her face. 
We were dreadfully sorry, but we couldn’t do any- 
thing about it. Grandma never lets Bridget give 
anything to beggars. Dulcie has made up some 
wonderful stories about the stolen child.” 

“ I don’t see how you can be sure she’s been 
stolen,” said Paul, sceptically. ‘^Any girl might cry 
if she was hungry and a cook slammed a gate in her 
face. I don’t see why you don’t speak to her and 
find out.” 

‘‘ We never had a chance to speak to her,” said 
Dulcie. “ We’ve only seen her from the window.” 

‘‘ You can speak to her now,” said Paul, who was 
fond of getting to the bottom of things. “ She’s 
right here, and we’re right here, too. If she really 
has been stolen, and we can find her family, we may 
get a big reward. You know they offered a tremen- 
dous reward for Charlie Ross. This one’s only a 
girl, so perhaps they wouldn’t pay as much for her, 
but families are always awfully glad to get back a 


no FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


Stolen child. Fve just been reading about one in a 
French book, and the father built a hospital, to show 
his gratitude. Come on, let’s speak to the little 
girl right away.” 

Dulcie’s heart beat rather fast, and Molly was 
conscious of a little thrill of excitement, as they ap- 
proached the small crossing-sweeper. 

“ She’s rather dirty,” whispered Molly. I 
thought stolen children were always very clean.” 

“ Not always,” Dulcie reassured her. “ They 
can’t help being dirty sometimes, when there isn’t 
any place to wash. She’d be very pretty if her face 
was clean, and her hair wasn’t so tangled.” 

As the three children paused at the crossing, “ the 
stolen child ” looked up and held out a small dirty 
hand. 

Gimme a penny,” she began, in the whining tone 
of the professional beggar. 

I’m sorry,” said Dulcie, kindly, '' we’d like to 
give you some money, but we haven’t any with us. 
Would you mind telling us your name? ” 

^ ** Rosy Finnegan,” answered the crossing-sweeper, 
promptly. Dulcie was deeply impressed. 

“ Rosy is a beautiful name,” she said, ** but Finne- 
gan — are you sure your name really is Finnegan? ” 
The stolen child ” nodded. 

“ Me name’s Finnegan,” she said, decidedly. 
“ Say, ain’t none of yous got a penny? ” 

I’m afraid we haven’t,” Dulcie admitted re- 


THE STOLEN CHILD 


III 


luctantly, ‘‘ but we’d like to have a little talk with 
you. Couldn’t you stop sweeping for a little while ? 
We’d like to have you come into the park with 
us.” 

Rosy Finnegan looked very much surprised. 
Little girls who lived on Washington Square were 
not in the habit of addressing her in such a friendly 
manner. But she was of a sociable disposition, and 
quite ready for an adventure of any kind. So, 
gathering her broom under her arm, she prepared to 
follow her new acquaintances. 

“ Now we can talk better,” said Dulcie, when they 
had reached the comparative quiet of the little park. 
‘‘ I’m afraid it’s too cold to sit down, so we’ll have 
to keep walking while we talk. My name is Dulcie 
Winslow, and this is my sister Molly. This boy is 
Paul Chester, and he’s a sort of cousin of ours. My 
sister and I have been interested in you all winter, 
and we want to ask you some questions. You say 
your first name is Rosy. That’s short for Rose, of 
course. I don’t believe many beg — I mean many 
little ^rls like you, are named Rose. It’s quite a 
book name.” 

“ Is it ? ” said Rosy, looking interested. ‘‘ I 
didn’t never read no books. Me name’s Rosy 
Finnegan.” 

‘‘You think it’s Finnegan,” said Dulcie, gently, 
but perhaps it’s something else. Do you remem- 
ber your mother ? ” 


1 12 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


“ Sure,” responded Rosy Finnegan, stopping short 
in her astonishment; ‘‘ me mother’s home.” 

Dulcie was conscious of a sensation of disappoint- 
ment at this reply, but Paul was not so easily 
daunted. 

“ Does she beat you? ” he inquired, abruptly. 

Rosy grinned. 

‘‘ I guess she do, sometimes,” she admitted. 
Dulcie felt her spirits rising again. 

“ I hope she isn’t very cruel,” she said, sym- 
pathetically. Perhaps she isn’t really your own 
mother.” 

She’s me mother all right,” persisted Rosy. 
‘‘ What makes you say she ain’t ? ” 

‘‘ Why — why,” faltered Dulcie, finding some diffi- 
culty in explaining, ‘‘ we don’t know, of course, but 
we think perhaps you may have been stolen.” 

“ The stolen child’s ” dirty little face grew sud- 
denly very red. 

I ain’t stole nothin’,” she declared, indignantly. 
‘‘ How dare you say I stole ! ” 

** Oh, we didn’t, we didn’t ! ” protested Dulcie and 
Molly both together. “We never thought of such 
a thing, did we, Paul ? ” 

“ Of course not,” said Paul ; “ she doesn’t under- 
stand. We don’t think you stole. Rosy, we think 
perhaps somebody stole you. People do get stolen 
sometimes, at least they do in books, and there was 
Charlie Ross.” 


THE STOLEN CHILD 


II3 

Yes, that’s it,” chimed in Dulcie. ** In books 
the stolen children almost always have blue eyes and 
golden hair, just like yours. That’s why we thought 
you might be one, and we wanted to talk to you 
about it. Do you mind if we ask you some ques- 
tions ? ” 

I don't mind,” said Rosy, who was beginning 
to look very much puzzled, '' but I ain’t never stole 
nothin’, I can tell you that. A girl on our block 
she got took up by the cops for stealin’ apples out of 
a cart, but I ain’t never stole a thing, honest I ain’t.” 

We’re quite sure you never did,” soothed 
Dulcie. ‘‘ Stolen children are always very good. 
Do you remember anything that happened when you 
were very little, almost a baby, you know ? ” 

“ Oh, I can tell you about that,” said Rosy, her 
face brightening. “We lived on Rivington Street, 
and Dad sold shoe-strings, and Jim and me sold 
matches. Jim he sells matches yet, but I don’t. 
Ma takes the baby round when she begs. Is that 
all ye wants to know, ’cause I ought to be gettin’ 
back to me crossin’ ? ” 

“ We’d like to find out a little more, if you don’t 
mind,” said Dulcie. “ You see, you may have been 
stolen before you were old enough to remember, or 
perhaps you were very ill, and lost your memory, 
like Marjorie in ‘ Marjorie’s Quest.’ Were you 
ever very ill ? ” 

“ I got run over onect,” replied Rosy, not with- 


1 14 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


out a touch of pride in the recollection. ‘‘ I was 
took to the 'orspittle. It was nice in the ’orspittle ; 
I liked it.’’ 

'' I know,” said Dulcie, comprehendingly. Did 
kind ladies bend over you, and speak very gently, 
and give you nice things to eat ? ” 

“ Sure; them was the nusses. One of ’em was 
awful pretty. Jim said he’d like to get run over, 
too, so he could go to the ’orspittle. He did try 
onect, but the cop catched him, and told him if he 
ever done it again, he’d get took up.” 

“ How old are you? ” demanded Paul, who had 
no intention of leaving all the glory of finding a 
stolen child to Dulcie. 

I dunno jist. Maybe I’m eight, and maybe I’m 
nine. Ma says she disremembers.” 

“ That settles it,” cried Paul, triumphantly. “ Of 
course she’s been stolen. People always know how 
old they are, unless there’s something queer about 
them.” 

Dulcie’s face brightened. To tell the truth, she 
had been growing a little sceptical as to whether 
there was, after all, anything particularly “ queer ” 
about Rosy Finnegan. Paul’s conviction revived 
her hopes. 

‘‘ I guess she must be stolen,” she said, “ if her 
mother doesn’t know how old she is. Rosy, would 
you like to find your real family, and go to live in 
a beautiful home, where you would have lovely 


THE STOLEN CHILD 


II5 

clothes to wear, and everybody would love you very 
much ? ” 

“ Sure I would ; Fd like it first rate. When can 
I go?” 

“ Oh, not till you can remember your past. Try 
to think very hard, and perhaps your memory will 
begin to come back. Don’t you remember any little 
prayer or hymn, or — or anything like that ? Stolen 
children in books generally do.” 

They sings hymns at the mission,” said Rosy. 

I went to the mission onect, but they said I couldn’t 
come again if I didn’t wash, so I didn’t go no 
more.” 

“ But — but don’t you like to be clean ? ” gasped 
Dulcie. In her experience, stolen children always 
longed for cleanliness, as well as other blessings of 
life. 

“ I hate washin’,” returned Rosy, with so much 
sincerity in her tone that it was impossible to doubt 
her. 

“ She’s probably forgotten about taking baths,” 
whispered Paul. “ She’ll be all right when she’s 
found.” 

“ I don’t see how she’s ever going to be found,” 
said Dulcie, with a sigh, “ if she can’t remember the 
least little thing. I’m afraid we’ll have to give 
it up.” 

“ Oh, I say, that’s an awful shame ! ” cried Paul. 
“ Maybe she’ll begin to remember in a few minutes.” 


Il6 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

'' Maybe I will,” said Rosy, hopefully. “ I want 
to go to that nice place, anyhow. Let’s come right 
along. It’s cold walkin’ so slow.” 

Dulcie clasped her hands in dismay. 

'' I don’t know what to do,” she said, tragically. 

We’ve raised her hopes, and we’ll have to dis- 
appoint her. Oh, I wish we hadn’t spoken to her 
at all.” 

“ I’ll tell you what we might do,” exclaimed 
Molly, with a sudden inspiration. “ Get her to take 
us home with her, and talk to the person she thinks 
is her mother. Maybe she’ll confess.” 

“ Oh, Molly, we couldn’t. What would Grandma 
and Aunt Julia say ? ” 

I don’t see that it matters what they say, if we 
are going to help a stolen child find her family,” 
said Paul. They’ll be proud of us afterwards, 
especially if we get a big reward. Why, we might 
even be talked about in the newspaper.” 

But Dulcie was still doubtful. 

“ I’m sure Grandma would be very angry,” she 
protested, and Aunt Julia, too. Besides, we don’t 
know for sure that she ever was stolen. She says 
she wasn’t.” 

“ I guess I made a mistake,” put in Rosy, eagerly. 

I disremembered first, but now I come to think 
about it, I’m pretty sure I was stole. Anyhow, I 
want the nice clothes. I’ll show you the way to our 
tiniment. ’Tain’t far.” 


THE STOLEN CHILD 11 / 

" Where is it ? '' inquired Dulcie, still far from 
convinced of the wisdom of the proceeding. 

Over on Avenue A.’’ 

“Avenue A/^ repeated Dulcie, with a shiver. 
“ Oh, we’ve never been there in our lives. We can’t 
go with her, Paul, we really can’t.” 

“All right, you needn’t. I’m going, anyhow, and 
so’s Molly. We like to see new places, don’t we, 
Molly ? ” 

“ I won’t go anywhere without Dulcie,” said 
Molly, loyally. “ I think we ought to go, though, 
Dulcie. She says she really was stolen, and it must 
be our duty to help her find her own mother, even 
if Grandma and Aunt Julia are angry. I’m sure 
Papa would want us to do our duty.” 

Dulcie wavered, and Rosy, quick to seize her ad- 
vantage, began to cry. 

“ I want to find me family, I want to find me 
family, I do, I do ! ” she wailed, rubbing her eyes 
with her knuckles. “ I want to have pretty clothes, 
and ice-cream, like in the ’orspittle.” 

This was too much for Dulcie’s kind heart. 

“ Very well,” she said desperately, “ if you both 
think it’s our duty, I suppose we shall have to go. 
Are you sure your mother is at home. Rosy? ” 

Rosy nodded. She had stopped crying as sud- 
denly as she began, and was evidently quite as much 
interested in the adventure as either Molly or 
Paul. 


Il8 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

** Show US the way,” commanded Paul, and three 
minutes later, they had left the safe precincts of 
Washington Square, and turned their faces reso- 
lutely in the direction of the East River. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE HOUSE ON AVENUE A 

T hey were obliged to walk fast, in order to 
keep pace with “ the stolen child,” who 
trotted on ahead, her little yellow head 
bobbing up and down in her excitement. For the 
first few blocks, all went well, but as the neighbor- 
hood grew more squalid, the streets dirtier and more 
crowded, their hearts began to fail. 

“ I didn't know there were such dirty streets in 
New York,” whispered Dulcie. “ Don’t you really 
think we’d better turn back ? ” 

But, though anything but comfortable himself, 
Paul shook his head resolutely. 

If it’s our duty, we ought to go on,” he said. 
“ I guess it’s always like this where beggars live. 
It’s a real adventure, and I never had one before. 
I’m going on, even if you don’t. Oh, I say, this is 
a pretty awful place. Do you suppose it’s Ave- 
nue A ? ” 

Involuntarily they all paused on the corner, and 
at the same moment Rosy turned her head and 
asked a question. 

119 


120 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


“ Gan I take Jim along with me? ’’ she demanded, 
anxiously. 

“Along where ? ” inquired Dulcie. 

“ To that nice place you said I was goin* to. I’d 
like to take him ; he’s me brother.” 

“ I don’t know ; perhaps you can,” Dulcie said, 
doubtfully. “ Isn’t it sweet of her to want to take 
her little brother?” she added in a whisper. 
“ Stolen children always want to do something like 
that. Their families are so happy to get them back 
they generally let them have anything they want. 
Perhaps they’ll let Jim come, and adopt him, and 
send him to college, and when they grow up, he and 
Rosy will marry each other. It often happens that 
way.” 

“ It’s terribly interesting,” said Molly, “ but I 
wish Avenue A wasn’t quite so dirty.” 

“ Is it much farther, Rosy ? ” Dulcie questioned, 
anxiously. 

Rosy shook her head, and pointed to a particularly 
disreputable-looking building, on the opposite side 
of the way. 

“ It’s there,” she announced ; down in the base- 
ment.” 

The street was piled with snow and refuse, and 
the children were obliged to pick their way, but they 
all had rubber boots, and the crossing was effected 
without much difficulty. Before the objectionable- 
looking tenement Rosy came to a halt. 


THE HOUSE ON A VENUE A 


121 


“ It’s down them steps,” she announced. 

** Oh, I don’t want to go down there, I really 
don’t,” cried Molly, shrinking back in sudden alarm. 

Dulcie had grown pale, but her face was stern 
and set. 

“ We’ve got to go now we’re here,” she said, 
firmly. “ I don’t like it, but Paul thinks it’s our 
duty. Think of poor little Rosy having to live here 
all the time. If we can help her to find her real 
family, nothing else will matter.” 

But despite her brave words, Dulcie’s heart was 
beating very fast, as she followed '' the stolen 
child ” down the slippery flight of steps. Molly 
was trembling violently, and even Paul had turned 
a little pale. At the foot of the steps Rosy 
opened a door, and stood aside to let her companions 
enter. 

Dulcie and Molly are middle-aged women now, 
with boys and girls of their own, but neither of 
them has ever forgotten her first impression of that 
tenement house basement. It really seemed incred- 
ible that such a quantity of dirt could have accumu- 
lated in so small a space. The floor was dirty, the 
walls were dirty, and the few articles of furniture 
the room contained were covered with dust. In the 
middle of the floor an extremely untidy baby was 
sprawling, playing with a half-starved kitten. On a 
tumbled-down bed in one corner a man lay, ap- 
parently asleep. There was a small fire in the stove, 


122 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

on which a pot was simmering, and a woman in a 
soiled calico wrapper had just stooped to add some 
ingredient to the steaming contents. 

At the opening of the door the woman turned her 
head, and at sight of the unexpected visitors she 
started back, with an exclamation of astonishment, 
and stood staring at the children, with eyes and 
mouth wide open. At the same moment the man 
on the bed opened his eyes. 

“ Shut that door,” he commanded in a very hoarse 
voice, and the words were followed by a severe fit 
of coughing. 

“ Come in,” said Rosy. Dad’s got an awful 
cold. He don’t like air.” 

The children could not help thinking that a little 
fresh air wQuld have improved the atmosphere, but 
they dared not say so, and in another moment they 
found themselves inside, with the door closed be- 
hind them. 

There was a moment of dead silence; then the 
woman seemed to find her voice. 

“ What do yous want ? ” she inquired in a tone 
that was anything but hospitable. 

“We want,” began Dulcie, with a mighty effort 
to control her shaking voice, “ that is, we came with 
Rosy. We thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind tell- 
ing us some things about her. There seems to be 
so much she can’t remember.” 

“ What’s Rosy been up to ? ” inquired Mrs. Finne- 


THE HOUSE ON A VENUE A 


123 


gan, fixing a stern eye upon her small daughter. 
“ She ain’t took nothin’ from yous, has she? ” 

Oh, no indeed,” cried Dulcie, indignantly. 
“ I’m sure she’s a very good little girl, but you see, 
we’ve been interested in her for a long time, on ac- 
count of her blue eyes and golden hair, and this 
afternoon we spoke to her. She told us about be- 
ing in the hospital, and about your not knowing 
just how old she is, and that made us pretty sure 
she must have been stolen when she was a baby, 
and ” 

'' Shtolen, is it?” screamed Rosy’s mother, her 
eyes beginning to flash ominously, and who shtole 
her. I’d like to be askin’ ? ” 

“ I don’t know — oh, please don’t be angry,” 
pleaded Dulcie, involuntarily moving a step nearer 
to the closed door. ‘‘We didn’t mean you did it, 
only — only we thought you might know something 
about it, and be able to give us a clue. We want to 
find her real mother, you know.” 

“ What are ye talkin’ about, anyway ? ” demanded 
Mrs. Finnegan, whose temper was evidently not of 
the sweetest. “ I never heard such crazy talk in 
me loife. Nobody shtole my Rosy. I guess it’s 
shtealin’ you’ve been yourselves, to get them good 
clothes you’ve got on. I’ll be callin’ the cop to yous, 
that’s what I’ll be doin’, if yous don’t get out of here 
moighty quick.” 

This was too much for Molly, and with a shriek 


124 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

of terror she made for the door. Even Dulcie 
quailed before this awful threat, but not so Paul. 
His usually pale face liad grown suddenly crimson, 
and before any one realized his intention, he had 
placed himself firmly in front of the angry Mrs. 
Finnegan. 

“You mustn't talk in that way,” he said, and his 
voice was very loud and clear. “ It’s very rude to 
insult people in your own house. We’re not the 
kind of people who steal. We live on Washing- 
ton Square, and we only came here because we 
wanted to find out about Rosy. We don’t know 
that she was stolen, but we thought she might 
have been, and she wanted 41s to come, didn’t you. 
Rosy ? ” 

Thus appealed to. Rosy, who had been watching 
proceedings with deep interest, opened her lips for 
the first time since reaching home. 

“ They said they’d take me to a nice place, where 
I’d have lovely clothes, and ice-cream,” she ex- 
plained. “ They said I was stole when I was a 
baby, and you wasn’t my real mother. Say, Ma, 
can I go wid ’em, and Jim too? ” 

“You cannot,” said Mrs. Finnegan, and there 
was unmistakable finality in her tone. “ You was 
not shtole when you was a baby, and what’s more, 
if you ever bring the likes of them in here again. 
I’ll wallop you. Now get out, every one of yous, 
before I take a shtick to yous. But let me tell you 


THE HOUSE ON A VENUE A 


125 


one thing first. My Rosy ain’t shtole, and never 
was. We’re honest people, we are, and me poor 
husband in his bed since Christmas, wid a cough on 
him that’s enough to wake the dead. I’ll tell 
you ” 

Mrs. Finnegan paused abruptly, as the door 
opened, and a boy of eleven or twelve appeared on 
the threshold. 

Hello ! ” exclaimed the newcomer, staring at 
the trembling visitors in astonishment ; what’s 
the row ? ” 

Row,” repeated the woman, “ I guess it is a 
row. What do you think, Jim? Them young ones 
come in here as bold as brass, tellin’ me to me face 
our Rosy was shtole when she was a baby. Did ye 
ever hear the like of that? ” 

''We didn’t say she stole her,” put in Paul. "We 
only said w*e thought she might have been stolen. 
She said herself perhaps she was.” 

" I did not ! ” shrieked Rosy, in sudden terror, as 
her mother made a step in her direction. " It’s lies 
he’s tellin’, Ma.” 

" Of course it’s lies. Now get along wid yous, 
and if I ever see one of yous hangin’ round here, 
you’ll get somethin’ you won’t like. Put ’em out, 
Jim.” 

Jim advanced threateningly. 

" Come on,” he ordered. " Out you goes.” 

The two little girls, now thoroughly frightened, 


126 Fom GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


made a hasty retreat towards the door, but Paul did 
not move. 

“ Come, Paul,” implored Dulcie, her teeth chatter- 
ing with fright. “We don’t want to stay here 
any longer. She isn’t a stolen child, after all. Oh, 
please do come.” 

“ I won’t come till she apologizes for being so 
rude,” returned Paul, obstinately. 

At that moment the man on the bed moved and 
raised his head. 

“ Chase ’em, Jim,” he commanded in his deep, 
hoarse voice ; “I can’t stand no more talk. The 
wind from that door’s enough to give abody a 
chill. Chase ’em out, I say, and shut the door.” 

“ Come along, young one,” said Jim, and seizing 
Paul by the shoulders, he gave him a push, which 
sent that indignant small boy flying out into the 
street. As for Dulcie and Molly, they were al- 
ready flying up the steps. 

“ Let’s run, oh, let’s run,” gasped Molly. “ Come, 
Dulcie, come, Paul. Oh, do be quick.” And away 
flew the terrified child, closely followed by her 
sister. 

But at the next corner Dulcie’s sense of duty sud- 
denly asserted itself. 

“ We’ve got to stop and wait for Paul,” she 
panted. “Aunt Julia would be so angry if we left 
him behind.” 

Molly paused reluctantly, and they both looked 


THE HOUSE ON A VENUE A 


12y 


around. The next instant they had each uttered a 
shriek of horror, and were running back in the direc- 
tion from whence they had come. It was a truly 
awful sight which met their gaze, for, rolling on a 
pile of snow, were two small figures, kicking and 
pummelling each other in a manner which filled 
Dulcie and Molly with unspeakable terror, for one 
of the figures was Jim Finnegan, and the other was 
Paul. 

“ He’s killing Paul, oh, he’s killing him ! ” wailed 
Molly, wringing her hands. ‘‘ Somebody stop him ; 
oh, please do stop him ! ” 

But nobody did stop him, although quite a crowd 
of ragged children had gathered to watch the fight. 
Possibly street fights were of too common occur- 
rence in that neighborhood to cause any great ex- 
citement. At any rate, nobody stirred, and an 
agonized glance up and down the street convinced 
Dulcie that there was not a policeman in sight. It 
was quite evident that Paul was getting the worst 
of the battle. Jim was at least a year older, and 
fully half a head taller, and, moreover, he was ac- 
customed to fighting. Paul had never fought with 
any one before in his life, and had always been con- 
sidered a delicate boy. For one moment only did 
Dulcie hesitate. 

‘‘ I’ll help you, Paul,” she shouted, and the terri- 
fied Molly beheld her elder sister suddenly plunge 
forward into the snow-drift. In another moment 


128 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


there were three figures struggling together, instead 
of two. 

A shout went up from the bystanders. 

Good for the kid. I say, she’s a plucky one. 
She’s got the big fellow down. Oh, my eye ! she’s 
sittin’ on his head.” 

“ Run, Paul, run,” gasped Dulcie, ‘‘ quick, before 
he gets up again.” 

But Paul had no intention of running. His blood 
was up. 

‘‘ I won’t run,” he protested loudly. “ I won’t 
be pitched out of a house like that. He’s got to 
apologize.” 

“ Oh, come off your high horse,” advised Jim, 
who was, after all, a good-natured boy, and having 
succeeded, not without difficulty, in removing the 
weight on his head, and sending Dulcie rolling over 
in the snow, he rose to his feet, grinning. ‘‘ Get 
along home, where you belong, and don’t try to 
fight a feller twice your size.” 

'' You’ve got to apol ” began Paul, but he got 

no further, for Dulcie had already scrambled to her 
feet, and seized him firmly by the arm. 

‘‘ That’s all right, Paul,” she panted. “ You’ve 
hurt him dreadfully already. See how his nose is 
bleeding.” 

‘‘ So’s mine,” said Paul, putting his hand up to 
his face. “Oh, I say, isn’t it awful?” And sud- 
denly the brave hero began to cry. 



She’s got the big fellow down.” — Page 128 . 



THE HOUSE ON A VENUE A 


129 


Five minutes later three very subdued, conscience- 
smitten children had left Avenue A behind them and 
were slowly making their way back in the direc- 
tion of Washington Square. Two of the three 
were looking decidedly the worse for wear. 
Dulcie’s hair-ribbon was gone, and her hat had 
lost all semblance of shape, and Paul's face was 
covered with blood, which still continued to pour 
from his nose, and one of his eyes was almost 
closed. 

'‘Are you suffering very much, Paul ? ** Molly in- 
quired anxiously. 

" My head aches, and I feel sort of queer all 
over,” answered Paul, " but I’m not sorry I did it. 
Pd do it right over again if I had to.” 

" Oh, what will your mother do when she sees 
you ? ” moaned Dulcie, " and I promised to look 
after you, too. My goodness! won’t we be pun- 
ished ? ” 

“ I’ll never, never try to help a stolen child find 
her family again, not as long as I live,” declared 
Molly. "We were only trying to be kind, and do 
our duty, and just see what happened.” 

" Maybe it would have been different if she’d 
really been stolen,” said Dulcie. " I began to be 
afraid she wasn’t the minute she said that about 
not liking to be clean. We oughtn’t to have gone 
home with her, and it was mostly my fault, because 
I’m the oldest, but it was so exciting, and I really 


130 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


thought we might be able to help her. Take my 
handkerchief, Paul, yours is soaking.” 

“ I say,” observed Paul, accepting the proffered 
handkerchief, ‘‘ couldn’t we go in the basement way? 
I don’t want Mother to see me looking like this.” 

'‘We might,” Dulcie admitted. “ Bridget’s pretty 
good-natured, but there’s your eye. Your mother 
will have to see that. And there’s my hat, too. 
Grandma will make an awful fuss about it. I really 
think the best way will be to go right up-stairs and 
tell the whole truth. Papa says it’s always best to 
tell the truth and take the consequences.” 

Paul made no further suggestions, although the 
face behind Dulcie’s handkerchief was very grave 
and troubled. He was a tender-hearted boy, and 
really loved his mother dearly. The thought of the 
horror and distress he was about to cause her was 
anything but pleasant. As they neared home, they 
were uncomfortably aware of the fact that people 
were casting surprised or amused glances at them, 
but fortunately they did not meet any one they 
knew. At the foot of Mrs. Winslow’s front steps 
they all paused. 

" You go in first, Molly,” said Dulcie. “ You’re 
the only one who looks all right. Tell Mary not to 
scream when she sees Paul. It might frighten Aunt 
Julia, and I think we’d better break it to her gently.” 

Accordingly, Molly mounted the steps and rang 
the bell, while the other two lingered behind on the 


THE HOUSE ON AVENUE A 13I 

sidewalk. There was a moment of anxious wait- 
ing, and then the front door opened, and on the 
threshold stood — not Mary but Grandma herself. 
Molly gave a great gasp, and sank against the wall. 

“Where — where is Mary?” she faltered, with 
shaking lips. 

“ Gone to the dentist’s. Where are the others? ” 

Molly did not answer; words were beyond her at 
that awful moment, but Mrs. Winslow did not have 
to repeat her question, for two forlorn, bedraggled 
little figures were already half-way up the steps. 
At the sight of them. Grandma started back, with a 
cry of horrified astonishment. 

“ You have all behaved simply outrageously.” 
That was Mrs. Winslow’s verdict, when she had 
heard the story, which Dulcie, as the eldest of the 
party, poured forth without concealment, and with 
a strong desire to assume the greater part of re- 
sponsibility for the escapade. “ You shall all be 
severely punished. Dulcie and Molly, go up to your 
room, and stay there till I can come to you. Come 
with me, Paul, and get your face washed. Your 
mother would faint on the spot if she saw you in this 
condition. If I had my way, I would give you each 
a good whipping, but I believe corporal punishment 
is not allowed by your much too-indulgent parents.” 
And with a look which expressed unutterable things. 
Grandma swept Paul away to the pantry, and the 
two little girls went slowly up-stairs to the nursery. 


132 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

“ Well, did you have a good time in the Square? ** 
inquired Daisy, looking up from her book at her 
sisters' entrance. “We didn’t go to see Miss Polly, 
after all. We listened through the wall, and heard 
people talking, so we knew she must have company. 
Good gracious ! Dulcie, what’s the matter with your 
hat?” 

Dulcie collapsed into a chair, and burst into tears. 

“ It’s all ‘ the stolen child’s ’ fault,” explained 
Molly. “ She wasn’t stolen, after all, and her 
mother was a dreadful person, who was very rude 
to us, and her brother and Paul got into a fight, 
and ” 

“ Oh, Molly, how awful ! ” gasped Daisy. “ You 
don’t mean Paul really fought ? ” 

“ Yes, he did, and Dulcie fought too, and sat on 
that horrid boy’s head, and made him stop hurting 
Paul, and Grandma says we’ve got to be punished.” 


CHAPTER IX 
MISS Polly's piano 

** T T'S very humiliating to be in disgrace, and not 

I allowed to have dinner with your family,” 
said Molly, with a long sigh. ‘‘ I hate bread 
and milk, don't you, Dulcie ? ” 

Dulcie did not answer, but pushed away her al- 
most untouched bowl, and rested her elbows on the 
nursery table. Her face was red and swollen with 
crying, and she looked the picture of woe. Molly 
regarded her critically. 

‘‘ You haven’t eaten anything,” she said. 
‘‘Aren’t you afraid you’ll be hungry before to- 
morrow morning ? ” 

Dulcie shook her head. 

“ I don’t care if I am,” she said, drearily. “ I can’t 
swallow ; every time I try something chokes me.” 

“ Is your throat sore ? ” Molly inquired, with a 
vivid recollection of Maud’s frequent sore throats. 

“ No, it isn’t sore, but there’s a lump in it. Oh, 
Molly, it’s awful! I was never so unhappy before 
in my life.” 

Molly looked very much troubled. 

‘‘ Is it because Grandma wouldn’t let us go down 

133 


134 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


to dinner, and says we’re not to have any dessert foi: * 
a week? ” she questioned doubtfully. 

“ Oh, I don’t mind that so much. It’s horrid, of 
course, but I could bear it if it wasn’t for other 
things. Grandma says I’m a disgrace to the family, 
and she’s going to write Papa about it.” 

“ Papa won’t believe her, I know he won’t,” pro- 
tested Molly. Besides, we can write to him too, 
and tell what really happened. I think you were 
very brave to fight that boy when he was hurting 
Paul.” 

“ It was a terribly unladylike thing to do,” said 
Dulcie. I don’t wonder Grandma was ashamed. 
Young ladies don’t fight street boys, and I’m nearly 
twelve. I promised Papa to take care of you all, 
and set a good example. And instead of that, I got 
you into a horrid scrape, and Paul too.” Suddenly 
Dulcie’s head went down on her arms, and she be- 
gan to cry. 

Molly was at her sister’s side in a moment. 

“ Don’t be so unhappy, darling, please don’t,” she 
pleaded, with her arms round Dulcie’s neck. “ It 
wasn’t any more your fault than mine and Paul’s. 
We really thought we were doing our duty. If 
Rosy had been a stolen child, and we’d found her 
family, everybody would have been delighted. I 
don’t believe even Grandma would have scolded 
then.” 

“ I don’t think there are any stolen children in 


MISS POLLY'S PIANO 


135 


the world/’ moaned Dulcie. They’re just in 
books, and we were very silly to imagine Rosy must 
be one. She wasn’t even very pretty, and she was 
so dreadfully dirty. I don’t see why the people 
who write books want to put things in that aren’t 
true.” 

'' There was Charlie Ross,” said Molly ; he was 
true.” 

He was only one, and there may never have 
been another. Anyway, we’ve done something 
awful, and I don’t believe Aunt Julia will ever for- 
give us for taking Paul to that dreadful place.” 

** Here come Daisy and Maud,” exclaimed Molly, 
in a tone of relief, as the sound of approaching foot- 
steps fell upon their ears. 

At the entrance of her two sisters, Dulcie lifted 
her head. 

What’s the matter ? ” she demanded tragically. 
‘‘Are you punished, too? It’s only seven o’clock.” 

“ Oh, no,” said Daisy, with a great effort to speak 
in her usual cheerful voice. “Aunt Kate is expect- 
ing a missionary, and Grandma said we might as 
well get out of the way.” 

“ There was ice-cream,” announced Maud, “ but 
Daisy wouldn’t take any. It was good, too, only 
Grandma wouldn’t let me have two helpings.” 

“ Why didn’t you take any, Daisy ? ” inquired 
Molly, her eyes wide with astonishment. 

“ Oh, I just thought I wouldn’t,” returned Daisy, 


136 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

evasively. “ It’s nice we could come up so early, 
isn’t it ? ” 

'' I know what the reason was,” said Dulcie, with 
conviction. '' It was because we couldn’t have any, 
wasn’t it, Daisy ? ” 

Daisy blushed, and looked very much em- 
barrassed. 

'' Well, I couldn’t enjoy good things to eat when 
I knew you had nothing but bread and milk,” she 
admitted, at which Molly promptly threw her arms 
round her sister’s neck, and hugged her. 

“ I believe you’re the best girl in the world, 
Daisy,” Dulcie declared. “We never should have 
gotten into such a scrape if you had been with us. 
I knew it wasn’t right all the time, but it was such 
an exciting adventure, and we never had a real ad- 
venture in our lives.” 

“ I don’t believe I should like an adventure,” said 
Maud, virtuously. “Aunt Julia has put Paul to bed, 
you know. She’s sure he’s caught some dreadful 
disease. She wanted to send for the doctor but 
Grandma wouldn’t let her.” 

“ What kind of a disease is it ? ” Molly wanted 
to know. 

“ I’m not sure, but I think it’s something called 
nerves. That was it, wasn’t it, Daisy ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t believe Paul is going to be ill at 
all,” said Daisy, reassuringly. “ Grandma doesn’t 
think so either. Aunt Kate laughed, and said Paul 


MISS POLLY'S PIANO 


137 


wasn’t the first boy in the family to come home with 
a black eye. She was beginning to tell about some- 
thing that happened when Papa was a boy, when 
Grandma gave that little cough she always gives 
when she wants people to stop talking, and Aunt 
Kate didn’t say any more.” 

“ Do you suppose Papa ever fought with any- 
body when he was a boy?” suggested Molly, her 
face brightening at the delightful possibility. 

“ I don’t know, but we’ll ask him in our next 
letter. Now let’s do something pleasant. It’s a 
whole hour till bedtime.” 

But for once Daisy’s cheerful suggestion failed to 
meet with its usual response. Neither Dulcie nor 
Molly felt inclined to do “ anything pleasant ” that 
evening. They tried lotto, but before the first game 
was finished Dulcie had begun to cry again. 

I don’t feel like doing anything but going to 
bed,” she announced, with a sob. ‘‘ My heart’s so 
heavy, I can’t take an interest in ordinary things.” 

It is pretty dreadful,” agreed Maud. “Aunt 
Julia thinks she will have to take Paul back to 
Boston. She’s afraid he’ll want to go on playing 
with us, and she says we aren’t fit to associate with 
him. I don’t think it’s quite fair to say all of us, 
when Daisy and I didn’t do a single thing. I wish 
Miss Polly would sing; it’s always comforting to 
hear music when you’re sad.” 

“ Let’s go and see Miss Polly,” exclaimed Daisy, 


138 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

with a sudden inspiration. “ I haven’t heard the 
piano all day. Perhaps she isn’t well.” 

Dulcie shook her head. 

I can’t go,” she said, mournfully. “ I’ve cried 
so much my head aches, and my eyes are all 
swollen.” 

'' So are mine,” added Molly, “ and I don’t feel 
like making calls any more than Dulcie does. You 
and Maud might go, though.” 

You go, Daisy,” coaxed Maud. “ I don’t like 
that dark closet at night. Ask her please to sing 
* Only an Armor-Bearer,’ or ‘ Pull For the Shore.’ ” 

“All right,” said Daisy, good-naturedly, and after 
giving the afflicted Dulcie a sympathetic kiss on the 
back of her bowed head, she tripped away cheerfully 
on her errand. 

The children had become quite accustomed to 
visiting their neighbor by this time, and the mysteri- 
ous door in the wall had lost some of its original 
fascination. Still, there was always a certain thrill 
of excitement in turning the handle, and the sudden 
plunge into the housemaid’s closet next door. 
Daisy’s heart beat rather fast, as she groped her way 
amid brooms and dust-pans, and stepped out into 
the lighted hall. Outside Miss Polly’s door she 
paused for a moment, to make sure the little cripple 
was alone. Once they had heard voices, and had 
crept quietly away again, for if the landlady, or 
any one else in the boarding-house, were to dis- 


M/SS POLLY'S PIANO 


139 


cover their secret, who knew what might happen? 
It was possible that Miss Collins might have as 
strong an objection to an unlocked door between the 
houses as Grandma herself. But to-night all was 
quiet, and after a moment’s hesitation, Daisy 
knocked softly. 

Instead of the usual sound of the wheel-chair be- 
ing pushed across the room, a rather unsteady voice 
called, Come in.” 

‘‘ Good evening. Miss Polly,” said the visitor, 
cheerfully, as she stepped over the threshold, and 
closed the door, I came to ask — why. Miss Polly, 
what’s the matter ? Are you ill ? ” 

Miss Polly was not in the wheel-chair ; she was in 
bed, and the face she turned to greet the little girl 
was very white. But at Daisy’s anxious question, 
she tried to smile her old bright smile. 

** No, no, dear, not ill, only a little tired. I asked 
Maggie to help me to bed before she went out for 
the evening. Come and sit down. I am glad to 
have company, but where are the others ? ” 

‘‘ They couldn’t come very well this evening,” 
said Daisy, blushing. “ I can’t stay long either ; I 
only came to ask if you would sing something, but 
of course you can’t now you’re in bed. Why, Miss 
Polly, where’s the piano ? ” 

“ It’s gone, dearie,” answered Miss Polly, in the 
same low, unsteady voice in which she had called 
** come in,” ‘‘ It went away this afternoon. I’m 


140 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

very sorry, but Fm afraid I won't be able to sing to 
you any more.” 

“ Oh, Miss Polly,” cried Daisy, and stopped short 
in sudden embarrassment, for her friend’s cheeks, 
which had been so pale a moment before, had 
flushed a dusky crimson, and there was such a sad 
look in her eyes that the little girl could not 
think of another word to say. But Miss Polly 
was not slow to read the sympathy in her visitor’s 
face. 

'' Don’t look so distressed,” she said, kindly. 
‘‘ Come here and sit on the bed, and I’ll tell you 
about it. It was hard, of course, but we all have 
hard things to bear sometimes, and I ought to be 
thankful that I was able to keep my dear piano so 
long.” 

Was it the gentleman in the back room who ob- 
jected? ” asked Daisy, as she took the proffered seat 
on the bed, and slipped her hand into Miss Polly’s. 

Miss Polly gave the kind little hand an affection- 
ate squeeze. 

“ No, dear, nobody objected, every one was very 
kind. Miss Collins even tried to persuade me to 
keep it a little longer, but I couldn’t do that, after I 
understood about the money.” 

‘‘ What money ? ” inquired Daisy, with deep in- 
terest. 

“ My money, dear. It isn't all gone, I am thank- 
ful to say, but the bank in Vermont, where I 


MISS POLLY'S PIANO 14I 

had several hundred dollars, failed the other day, 
and my lawyer has written me that I have been 
spending more than I realized these past three years. 
Of course I couldn’t run into debt, so the wisest plan 
seemed to be to sell ” 

Miss Polly paused abruptly, and put up her hand 
to shade her eyes. 

'' You mean to sell the piano? ” whispered Daisy, 
winking hard to keep back the sympathetic tears. 

Oh, Miss Polly, and you loved it so.” 

There was a short silence, then Miss Polly spoke, 
and though her voice was not as bright as usual, it 
no longer trembled. 

“ It seems a little hard just at first,” she said, with 
a faint smile, but I shall get used to it in time, as 
I had to other things, that were even harder. It’s 
wonderful to find how kind and sympathetic people 
are. Why, would you believe it, my dear, that fool- 
ish Maggie actually cried when she was putting me 
to bed. I used to think her a little indifferent some- 
times, but I see I was mistaken. My piano was a 
great pleasure, but I still have my books, and my 
dear little neighbors too. I shouldn’t like to have 
Tom hear of it, it would grieve him so much, but 
there isn’t any need of his ever knowing.” 

He wouldn’t have let it happen if he had 
known,” cried Daisy. Oh, dear Miss Polly, won’t 
you please write him about it? He’d be so un- 
happy if he ever found out.” 


142 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


Daisy’s voice was pleading, but Miss Polly shook 
her head resolutely. 

“ My dear,” she said, gently, “ you don’t under- 
stand. Some day Tom must know, of course, but 
not till things are a little easier for him. Miss 
Collins has been trying to persuade me to write, but 
I know better. I had a letter from Tom this morn- 
ing; such a dear letter; I will read it to you.” 

As she spoke. Miss Polly drew from under her 
pillow a crumpled sheet of paper, covered with a 
firm, manly handwriting. 

'' I think I could almost repeat it by heart,” she 
said, smoothing out the letter with loving fingers. 
“ I keep all his letters, and read then! over and over. 
This one isn’t very long, but the dear boy is so busy. 
It’s very good of him to take the time to write at all. 
Would you like to hear what he says? ” 

Daisy said she would like it very much, and Miss 
Polly began to read in a voice that was still a little 
unsteady. 


'' Dear old Polly: 

*‘Your good letter reached us several days 
ago, and would have been answered sooner but for 
the fact that I have been working every evening this 
week, and some nights haven’t left the office till 
after nine. It’s a bit hard on that little wife of 
mine, but I tell her all is grist that comes to our 
mill, and if things keep on as they have for the past 
year, it won’t be very long before I can begin to let 


MISS POLLY" S PIANO 


143 


up a little. Who knows but that we may have our 
carriage, and our box at the opera, some fine day. 
Helen laughs when I predict a glorious future, but, 
joking aside, I have good reason to expect another 
raise of salary in the spring. My employer, Mr. 
Anderson, gave me a strong hint to that effect a few 
days ago. 

“We laughed heartily over your description of 
your interesting little neighbors, who have dis- 
covered a secret door in the wall. Rather an un- 
usual find in a New York boarding-house, I should 
think. It reminds me of some of those thrilling 
tales we used to read in our childhood. I shall ex- 
pect to hear next of a secret staircase leading to a 
dungeon, where a captive princess is kept in con- 
cealment. I am glad you find the children so enter- 
taining, but I should think you might be rather tired 
when evening comes, and prefer some other amuse- 
ment to singing ballads. However, that is your 
affair, not mine. All I care about is that you don’t 
work too hard, and wear yourself out. You and 
Helen will have some fine times over your music, 
when you make us that long deferred visit, for she 
is as fond of singing as you are, and I really think 
you will be pleased with her voice. We have hired 
a piano, and I generally find her singing away like a 
nightingale when I come home late of an evening. 
She says she can’t help it; it’s the way she has of 
expressing her happiness. As to your namesake, if 
she doesn’t sing yet, she certainly crows. She is as 
jolly and healthy as a baby can be, and Helen warns 
me not to forget to give you the great news, little 
Polly has cut her first tooth. 

“ Now, my dear little sister, I must ask you to 


144 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

pardon a short letter, for it is after eleven p. m. and 
Helen is beginning to look severe, as she invariably 
does when she considers I am not getting my proper 
allowance of sleep. I am delighted to hear that you 
are enjoying your piano so much. Have you been 
to any good concerts lately ? How about the season 
ticket for the opera I requested you to buy, with 
that small Christmas check ? Helen and I indulged 
in a little dissipation one night last week. She met 
me in town, and we dined at a restaurant, and went 
to the theatre. It was a great treat, I assure you, 
and as ‘ our one and only maid ’ seems a capable sort 
of person, Helen was not afraid to leave baby in her 
care. 

“ Good night, old girl. Write often, and believe 
me, as always, 

‘‘ Your affectionate brother, 

Tom Oliver/^ 

“Isn’t it a dear, kind letter?” said Miss Polly, 
looking up with shining eyes. 

“ It’s very nice indeed,” agreed Daisy, “ but, dear 
Miss Polly, I can’t help wishing he knew about 
everything.” 

Miss Polly smiled and shook her head. 

“ No, no, dear,” she said, resolutely, “ not just 
yet. Tom and Helen must have a little more time 
to themselves, and then — well, perhaps in another 
year. But don’t let us talk any more about my tire- 
some affairs. Tell me what you have all been doing 
since you came to see me last.” 

“ How long you stayed, Daisy, and Miss Polly 


MISS POLLY'S PIANO 


145 


never sang a single song/* reproached Maud, when 
her sister returned to the nursery, at a quarter past 
eight. 

'' I couldn’t come back any sooner,” explained 
Daisy. ‘‘ Miss Polly is very unhappy, and I think 
it comforted her a little to have me stay and talk. 
I told her all about this afternoon, and she laughed, 
she really did, Dulcie, and said she wished she could 
have seen you and Paul fighting that big boy. It 
was the only time she laughed, for, oh, girls, such 
a very sad thing has happened. Poor Miss Polly 
has lost a great deal of money, and she’s had to sell 
her piano.” 

I think the world is a very sad place,” remarked 
Dulcie, with a long sigh, when they had heard all 
that Daisy could tell them of Miss Polly’s troubles. 
“ It’s been a very uncomfortable day, for everybody. 
Now let’s go to bed, and I’ll talk to you about 
Mamma.” 

It was nearly half-past nine, and Dulcie’s voice 
had begun to sound decidedly drowsy, when they 
were all startled into wakefulness by a knock at the 
nursery door. 

“ Who is it? ” demanded Daisy, sitting up in bed. 

It’s me — I, I mean,” answered a familiar voice. 
“ I can’t stay but a minute, for fear of Mother, but 
I heard the missionary man talking as if he was 
preaching a sermon, so I’m sure he can’t be going 
quite yet. I just wanted to tell Dulcie and Molly 


146 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

Fm not a bit sick, and I don’t believe I’m going to 
be. Mother always fusses a lot, but she doesn’t 
mean it all, and I’m going to write to Father to- 
morrow, and tell him how plucky Dulcie was.” 


CHAPTER X 
dulcie's birthday 

P AUL was correct in his prediction ; he was not 
ill the next day, nor did he manifest any signs 
of approaching illness during the following 
week. His mother was very much surprised. Her 
sister Kate remarked sarcastically that she believed 
Julia was disappointed that none of her prognostica- 
tions of evil came to pass, but when the ninth day 
was passed, even Mrs. Chester was forced to con- 
fess that for once in his life her boy had escaped 
unharmed. For the first day or two she kept Paul 
constantly with her, and he and the little girls met 
only at meals, but as time went on, this strict dis- 
cipline began to relax, and by the end of the week 
the children were allowed to play together again. 
Grandma and Aunt Kate were very busy attending 
a series of missionary meetings, and had little time 
or thought to devote to anything else. Otherwise 
the children’s punishment might have been more 
prolonged. Paul’s father had written a letter to 
his wife, after reading which Mrs. Chester had 
talked long and seriously to her little boy, and had 
secured a solemn promise from that small delin- 
147 ^ 


148 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


quent to refrain from any further mischief. Paul 
was a truthful boy, and when he had once made a 
promise his mother knew she could trust him to 
keep it. 

“ But never, never again shall I allow Paul to go 
out with those children,'' Mrs. Chester declared to 
her mother and sister. “ Goodness only knows what 
mischief they might lead the dear child into." 

They may get into plenty of mischief," returned 
Grandma, with her grim smile, '' but I will engage 
there won't be any more attempts to find a stolen 
child." 

And Mrs. Winslow was correct. The very words 
“ stolen child " were sufficient to cause Dulcie's 
cheeks to burn with mortification, and bring the 
tears of humiliation to Molly's eyes. 

But children cannot go on thinking of unpleasant 
things for very long at a time, and by the end of the 
second week the events of that dreadful afternoon 
had ceased to be the foremost thought in any of 
their minds. 

“ You and Dulcie must stay down-stairs this even- 
ing," Molly informed Paul, one afternoon just be- 
fore dinner. “ Daisy and Maud and I are going to 
be very busy." 

‘‘What are you going to be busy about?" Paul 
inquired, with pardonable curiosity. He rather en- 
joyed the evenings in the nursery, with the little 
girls, for since the arrival of the Chesters, Grandma 


DULCIE'S BIRTHDA Y 


149 


had not insisted on their remaining in the dining- 
room after dinner. 

To-morrow is Dulcie's birthday,” explained 
Molly, and weVe got to do up the presents this 
evening.” 

Paul looked interested. 

‘‘What presents is she going to have?” he 
asked. 

“ Well,” said Molly, not without some embarrass- 
ment, “ you see, it isn’t very easy to arrange. If 
we had some money, we’d buy presents, of course, 
but we haven’t any of us got a penny. Papa sent 
us each five dollars for Christmas, but Grandma put 
it in the bank for us, and we can’t get it out again 
till we’re of age, and that won’t be for ever so many 
years. So we have to give something we have al- 
ready. Daisy made a book-mark, but we couldn’t 
all do that, because Dulcie only reads one book at a 
time. Daisy and I both wanted to give her our 
Sunday hats, because hers got spotted in the rain, 
but we were afraid Grandma wouldn’t let us. I’m 
giving her some of my hair-ribbons ; they’re not new, 
but they’re quite good yet, and Dulcie loves hair- 
ribbons. Maud wanted to give some of her paper 
dolls, but we think twelve is too old for dolls, so 
she’s decided to give her gold locket that Papa 
gave her before he went away. It’s very pretty, 
and there is some of Mamma’s hair in it. We’re 
going to tie the parcels up to-night, and write mes- 


ISO FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


sages on them. Daisy does the writing, and we say 
things like ' For Dulcie, from her loving sister 
Molly/ or ' With loving birthday wishes, from 
Maud/ It’s really quite exciting doing up the 
presents.** 

“ I shouldn*t think it would be much fun, when 
you haven*t anything to do up but your own old 
things,** objected Paul. “ What are Grandma and 
Aunt Kate going to give ? ** 

“ Grandma and Aunt Kate ! ** repeated Molly, in 
astonishment, why, they never give presents ex- 
cept on Christmas, and then Grandma only gave us 
some woolen stockings, and Aunt Kate gave us each 
a cake of scented soap. Grandma says nobody ever 
gave her a birthday present in her life.** 

I got a lot of things on my birthday,** said Paul. 
‘‘ Father gave me a velocipede, and Mother a lot of 
books, and — I say. I’d like to give Dulcie a present, 
too. Father gave me five dollars to spend in New 
York. What do you think she’d like ? ” 

“ Oh, Paul, how kind you are ! ** cried Molly, her 
face beaming with pleasure. “ I know a book she 
wants dreadfully, and she never can get it at the 
library, because it’s always out. It’s ‘ Little Men,* 
by Miss Alcott. We*ve all read ‘ Little Women,* 
and we loved it, but * Little Men * has been out every 
time Dulcie asked for it.*’ 

**A11 right,” said Paul, grandly, she shall have 
it. ril get Mother to take me to a bookstore to- 


DULCIE'S BIRTHDA Y 


I5I 

morrow. Do you always give each other your old 
things for birthday presents ? ” 

“ Yes, at least we have since Papa went away. 
Daisy’s birthday comes in May, and mine is in July. 
I suppose Dulcie will give the locket to Daisy, be- 
cause it’s about the nicest thing we’ve got, and per- 
haps — I don’t know, of course — but Daisy may give 
it to me when my birthday comes. Maud’s birth- 
day isn’t till September, and by that time I can give 
it back to her again.” 

“ Well, it’s the queerest way of giving presents 
that I ever heard of,” declared Paul. “ I shouldn’t 
like it one bit, but I suppose you don’t mind so much 
if you’re used to it.” 

There isn’t any use minding what you can’t 
help,” said Molly, philosophically, and just then the 
dinner-bell rang, and the conversation came to an end. 

Immediately after dinner the three younger girls 
left the dining-room, and Dulcie, looking quite happy 
and excited, sat down to spend a silent evening with 
her elders. Paul would have liked to follow the 
others, but was too proud to go where he had not 
been invited, so having nothing better to do, he con- 
sented with unusually good grace to his mother’s 
proposal that he should read a chapter or two of 
ancient history. 

''To-morrow is your birthday, isn’t it?” Paul 
observed to Dulcie, as the two children went up- 
stairs together, at eight o’clock. 


152 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


*'Yes,” said Dulcie, smiling; “that's why the 
others went up so early; they wanted to tie up the 
presents." 

“ Have you any idea what you’re going to get ? " 
Paul asked, curiously. 

“ Not the very least, and it’s so exciting wonder- 
ing about it.’’ And Dulcie laughed, such a happy 
laugh, that Paul gazed at her in bewilderment. 

“ I hope she won’t be disappointed,’’ he said to 
himself. “ I wish I’d known about that book be- 
fore, so I could have bought it in time. I should be 
disappointed enough if I didn’t get anything but old 
junk for my birthday, and I guess most people 
would, too.” 

But when Dulcie came down to breakfast the next 
morning, she did not look in the least disappointed. 
She was wearing a pink hair-ribbon, which Paul re- 
membered to have noticed as a favorite color with 
Molly, and round her neck, attached to a piece of 
black velvet, was a tiny gold locket. 

“ Happy birthday,” remarked Paul, as Dulcie 
slipped into her seat at the table. “ Did you like 
your presents ? ” 

“ I loved them,” answered Dulcie, heartily. “ I 
woke up before six, and took all the packages into 
bed ; I was so crazy to see what they were.” 

At that moment Grandma looked up from the 
morning paper, to inquire sharply: 

“ What’s that round your neck, Dulcie? ” 


DULCIE'S BIRTHDA Y 


153 


‘‘ It’s my locket/’ said Dulcie, proudly, touching 
the trinket with loving fingers. It was Maud’s, 
but she gave it to me for a birthday present. Papa 
gave it to her, and there’s a piece of Mamma’s hair 
in it.” 

“ Take it off the moment you go up-stairs,” com- 
manded Mrs. Winslow. Children don’t wear 
jewelry in the morning. I am surprised you didn’t 
know better than to put it on.” 

Dulcie’s face fell, and she grew suddenly scarlet, 
but she said nothing, and no further allusions were 
made on the subject of birthdays. 

The morning was taken up with lessons, as usual, 
and after luncheon the four little girls were sent 
out for their daily exercise in the Square. They 
were not allowed to go far from home by them- 
selves, and as it was a cold, dark afternoon, with a 
strong wind blowing, they did not find the solemn 
walk round and round the Square particularly 
enjoyable. Dulcie left the others for a few 
minutes, while she made a call at the circulating 
library, whence she returned looking rather crest- 
fallen. 

“Did you get it this time?” Daisy inquired, 
eagerly. 

Dulcie shook her head. 

“ Out as usual,” she said. “ I got ‘ Heartsease,’ 
by Charlotte Yonge, but I don believe it’s half as 
nice as ‘ Little Men.’ ” 


154 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


Molly heard both question and answer, and looked 
suddenly pleased and mysterious. 

Paul had gone out with his mother, but on his 
return, at about four o’clock, he ran up-stairs to the 
nursery, two steps at a time. He was carrying a 
parcel under his arm. He found his four friends 
already returned from their walk, and somewhat to 
his surprise, three of them — including Dulcie her- 
self — did not look very much pleased to see him. 

What are you all doing ? ” he inquired, with 
some curiosity, for it was evident that his entrance 
had interrupted something. 

Oh, just playing,” answered Daisy, blushing, 
and Dulcie added hastily : “ It’s a very silly game ; 
you wouldn’t care about it.” 

How do you know I wouldn’t ? ” demanded the 
visitor, who was standing in the doorway, with one 
hand behind him. 

‘‘ Because I know you wouldn’t ; it isn’t a boy’s 
game at all.” 

Well, I think you might tell me what it is, any- 
way,” said Paul, rather offended, and Molly, who 
had noticed the parcel in her friend’s hand, hastened 
to say soothingly: 

“ There isn’t any harm in telling him ; I don’t be- 
lieve he’ll laugh. We’re having a make-believe 
party, Paul.” 

“ What’s a make-believe party ? ” 

“ Why, you see,” Daisy explained, ‘‘ this is 


DULCIE'S BIRTHDAY 


155 


Dulcie's birthday, and we wanted to do something a 
little different from ordinary days. Of course 
Grandma wouldn’t let us have a real party, so we’re 
having an imaginary one, and all the people who 
come to it are make-believes.” 

Paul laughed. 

“ That’s the funniest party I ever heard of,” he 
said. “ I say, let me play, too.” 

Dulcie and Daisy looked doubtful, but Molly 
pleaded, and in the end the others consented, after 
exacting a promise from Paul not to laugh, and 
never to let the grown-ups know how silly they had 
been. 

‘‘We pretend this is the parlor,” said Molly. 
“ We are all dressed in party dresses. Mine is pink 
silk, with white dotted muslin over it. There’s an 
imaginary piano over there by the window, and a 
man is playing dance music on it. Dulcie stands 
here by the door, and shakes hands with people when 
they come in. I announce their names, and every- 
body brings her a present. I’ll show you how we 
do it.” And, turning her head in the direction of 
the open door, Molly announced in a good imitation 
of “ Grandma’s company voice ” : 

“ Miss Blanche Bud.” 

Dulcie advanced and held out her hand. 

“ I’m very glad to see you, Blanche,” she said. 
“ It was lovely of you to come to my party. Your 
dress is very pretty. Oh, are these flowers for me ? 


156 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

How very sweet of you to bring them. Maud, 
please put these roses in water.” 

“ Isn’t it fun? ” giggled Maud, seizing the imag- 
inary bouquet from her sister’s outstretched hand. 
“ If I shut my eyes tight, and pretend very hard, I 
can almost make myself believe it’s a real party.” 

Paul was finding some difficulty in keeping his 
promise not to laugh. 

“ Let me come next,” he urged, and Molly, with 
another glance at the mysterious package in Paul’s 
hand, announced: 

“ Master Paul Chester.” 

How do you do, Paul ? ” said Dulcie, gravely. 

I’m glad you could come. It’s rather a cloudy 
day, isn’t it ? ” 

Many happy returns of the day, and here’s a 
present for you,” said Paul, thrusting his parcel into 
Dulcie’ s hand, and instantly retreating to the back- 
ground. 

“ Why — why, it’s a real present ! ” cried Dulcie, 
quite forgetting the make-believe party in her sur- 
prise. 

‘‘ Let me help untie the string,” pleaded Maud. 
‘‘ I love to open parcels. Oh, it’s a book. Dulcie 
likes books better than most any other presents, 
Paul.” 

“ It’s ‘ Little Men,’ ” said Dulcie, with shining 
eyes ; ‘‘ the book I’ve been wanting for so long I 
How did you know I wanted it, Paul ? ” 


DULCIE'S BIRTHDAY 


157 


** Molly told me,” said Paul, who was feeling 
much gratified at the excitement produced by his 
gift. “ I bought it this afternoon when I was out 
with Mother. She said I ought to write something 
in it, but there wasn’t time. Fll write it now.” 

“All right,” said Dulcie, hugging her new treas- 
ure tight. “ Oh, Paul, I do thank you so much. 
What would you like to write ? ” 

“ Well,” said Paul, reflectively, “ Mother thought 
something French would be nice, but I hate French. 
I think ‘ From Paul Chester to his affectionate 
friend Dulcie Winslow ’ would be all right, don’t 
you? Or would you rather have some poetry? I 
know a lot of poetry.” 

Dulcie said she liked Paul’s first suggestion best, 
and the little boy sat down at the desk to write the 
inscription. 

“ It’s the first really nice birthday present you’ve 
had, Dulcie,” said Daisy, joyfully; “ I’m so glad you 
got it.” 

“ They were all nice,” declared Dulcie, giving her 
sister an affectionate squeeze. “ I loved every single 
one. I’m awfully glad to have ‘Little Men,’ though. 
I’ll read it out loud this evening, if you like. Have 
you finished, Paul? Oh, how beautifully you 
write.” 

Paul looked pleased. 

“ I like buying presents for people,” he said, 
grandly. “ Mother said she was glad I was gener- 


158 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


ous, but she didn’t think I need spend so much 
money. I told her I wanted to, because I liked 
Dulcie, and I thought it was real mean nobody gave 
her anything new for her birthday.” 

“ What did your mother say ? ” Dulcie asked, with 
pardonable curiosity. 

“ Oh, she said Grandma had a pretty hard time 
keeping you all here, and we mustn’t expect too 
much of her. Now let’s go on with that party. 
What do you do about things to eat ? ” 

“ I’m afraid they’ll have to be imaginary, like all 
the rest of it,” said Dulcie, laughing. “ Grandma 
won’t let us bring food up here, and we’re not al- 
lowed to eat between meals, anyway. Why, here 
comes Mary. What is it, Mary? Does Grandma 
want us ? ” 

It’s a package for you. Miss Dulcie,” said Mary, 
rather breathless from the four long flights of stairs. 
'' It came by express, and I thought you might like 
to have it right away. Mrs. Winslow’s out, and 
Miss Kate, too.” 

“ Why, what in the world can it be ? ” cried 
Dulcie, and all the others gathered about her eagerly, 
as she untied the string. 

“ It’s a wooden box,” announced Molly. 

‘‘ Maybe it’s a birthday present from Papa,” sug- 
gested Maud. 

“ Or from Lizzie,” added Daisy. 

It’s from California,” said Paul; ‘‘I see Cali- 


DULCIE'S BIRTHDA Y I $9 

fornia on the back. Do you know anybody 
there?” 

“Yes, Uncle Stephen and Miss Leslie,” said 
Dulcie ; “ it must be from one of them, but how did 
they know this was my birthday ? ” 

“ There’s a letter inside,” cried Molly. “ Let’s 
read it before we open the box, then we’ll know 
who sent it.” 

“ Why not see what’s in the box first? ” objected 
Paul, who was almost as much interested in the con- 
tents of the mysterious package as the little girls 
themselves. 

“ Because,” said Daisy, “ it’s so exciting to an- 
iicipate, and as soon as we know what’s inside the 
box the excitement will be over. Do read the letter 
first, Dulcie.” 

“ It might be only soap, you know,” suggested 
Maud, with a recollection of Aunt Kate’s Christmas 
present. 

“ The letter is from Miss Leslie,” cried Dulcie, 
who, obedient to Daisy’s request, had already torn 
open the envelope. “ Oh, isn’t it lovely ? Listen to 
what she says.” And she read aloud: 

“ My dear Dulcie: 

“ I was going to say ‘ little Dulcie,’ but re- 
membered just in time that people of twelve don’t 
like to be considered ‘ little ’ any longer, and if I 
am not mistaken, you are going to have a birthday 
on the twentieth. Now I suppose you are wonder- 


l6o FOl/J^ GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


ing what little bird brought me that interesting piece 
of news, and I am not going to tell you, because it 
is fun to keep guessing. I am sending a box of our 
preserved California fruit, which I hope may reach 
you on the right day. 

“ I was delighted with your nice letter, and very 
much interested in the brave little invalid next door. 
I agree with you that her brother ought to know of 
her condition, but if she will persist in being so un- 
selfish and heroic, I don't see that her friends can 
do anything to help matters. I am glad you go to 
see her often, and as to the door in the wall ” 

Dulcie came to a sudden startled pause. All the 
little girls had grown very much embarrassed. 

‘‘ What’s the matter? Why don’t you go on? ” 
demanded Paul, in astonishment. 

I can’t,” said Dulcie, “ it’s a secret. I ought to 
have stopped before, but I didn’t notice.” 

Paul looked disappointed and a little offended. 

I can keep secrets just as well as anybody else,” 
he said, sulkily, but of course if you don’t want me 
to hear, I won’t listen.” And he turned to leave 
the room, with an air of injured dignity. 

It was an awkward moment. Nobody wanted to 
offend Paul, especially after his generosity in giving 
Dulcie a birthday present. And yet, could he be 
trusted with this precious secret ? It was Daisy who 
finally settled the difficulty. 

“ I believe we can trust Paul,” she said, with 
sudden decision. “ I’m sure a nice boy can keep a 


DULC/E'S BIRTHDAY l6l 

promise. Finish the letter first, Dulcie, and then 
let’s tell him all about Miss Polly.” 

So Dulcie, after making sure that Mary had gone 
down-stairs again, and impressing upon Paul that 
what he was about to hear was “ a very solemn 
secret indeed,” went on with her letter. 

“As to the door in the wall,” Miss Leslie wrote, 
“ it is certainly very interesting and romantic. I 
don’t think I ought to advise you to keep a secret 
from your grandmother, but, as you say the door 
has been unfastened for years, and no one has ever 
discovered the fact before, it doesn’t seem as if there 
could be much harm in keeping the secret a little 
longer. I am glad you have written your father 
about it, however, for his advice in the matter will 
be much better than mine. 

“ Mamma and I have been very busy since our 
return from the East, or I would have written 
sooner. California is very beautiful just now. I 
wish you could see the roses in our garden, and hear 
the mocking-birds sing. There is a nest right out- 
side my window. I would love to have you all out 
here for a visit, but am afraid your grandmother 
would never consent to your taking such a long 
journey. We were six days on the traiif, but 
Mamma and I rather enjoyed it. I have seen your 
uncle several times since our return. He is very 
well, and busy, as we all are. 

“ Now, my dear little girl, I must say good-bye 
for to-day. Write soon again and tell me all you 
do, for I am interested in everything that concerns 
my little friends. Give a great deal of love to 
Daisy, Molly, and Maud, and with an equal share 


i 62 four girls of forty years ago 

for yourself, and best wishes for a very happy 
birthday, believe me, 

“ Your sincere friend, 

'' Florence Leslie/" 

‘‘ What a beautiful letter ! ” exclaimed Daisy. 
“ How do you suppose she found out about your 
birthday ? 

I suppose Uncle Stephen must have told her, 
but I didn’t think he knew. It was dear of her to 
write, and to send such a wonderful present.” 

I’ve looked inside the box,” Maud informed 
them, and it’s full of big sticky, delicious-looking 
things. May I taste one right away, Dulcie ? ” 

'‘Of course you may. We’ll all have some. Oh, 
I do wish Uncle Stephen would hurry up and marry 
Miss Leslie. It would be so nice to have her for 
an aunt.” 

“ Hurry and tell about that door in the wall,” 
put in Paul, a little impatiently. " I’ve promised I 
won’t tell anybody, and I don’t see why you want to 
keep me waiting any longer.” 

"We won’t,” said Dulcie, and while they all 
munched the delicious candied fruit, they told him 
the story of brave little Miss Polly. 

" We miss the piano very much,” said Maud, 
when the story was finished, and Paul was looking 
as deeply interested as could possibly be expected. 
" It used to be so nice to hear Miss Polly singing 
when we were going to sleep.” 


DULCIE'S BIRTHDAY 


163 


“ Tm afraid Miss Polly misses it very much, too,*’ 
said Daisy, sadly. She doesn’t say anything about 
it, but her eyes have such a sorrowful look in them, 
and she doesn’t laugh nearly as often as she did 
before.” 

“ I’d like to go and see her,” said Paul. ‘‘ I’ll 
sing to her if she wants me to.” 

Why, Paul, we didn’t know you could sing,” 
cried Dulcie, in surprise. “We never heard you.” 

Paul blushed. 

“ I hate doing it generally,” he confessed. 
“ Mother makes me sometimes, to show off, you 
know, and I’m going to be in the choir next year. 
I don’t mind singing for that lady if you think she’d 
like to have me. I know some French songs, and 
' The Holy City,’ and ’most all the songs in ' Pina- 
fore.’ I can say a lot of poetry, too.” 

“ Let’s go to see Miss Polly right away, and take 
Paul with us,” urged Molly, eagerly. “ It will be 
much more fun than having a make-believe party, 
won’t it, Dulcie ? And we can take her some of this 
lovely fruit. We’ve been wanting to give her a 
present ever since the first time we went, but we 
never had anything to take before.” 


! 


CHAPTER XI 


PAUL ENTERTAINS MISS POLLY 

M ISS POLLY was in her wheel-chair, 
which she had drawn as close as possible 
to the register, for the day was cold, and 
only a small amount of furnace heat reached the top 
floor. She had evidently been reading, but the book 
had fallen into her lap, and lay there neglected, while 
the little cripple gazed straight before her, with a 
sad, far-away look in her eyes. Miss Polly was cer- 
tainly thinner and paler than on that Sunday when 
Molly had made her first visit, but when, at the 
sound of a knock at her door, she turned to greet 
her little neighbors, her smile was as bright and her 
voice as cheerful as ever. 

‘‘ My dear children,” she cried joyfully, “ how 
glad I am to see you. And you've brought your 
visitor, too. How do you do, Paul? You see I 
know your name. These little friends of mine have 
told me a great deal about you. It was kind of ■ 
you to come to see me.” 

Paul stepped forward and held out his hand. 

I'll sing for you if you'd like to have me,” he 
announced abruptly. ‘‘ I don't like doing it gener- 

164 


PAUL ENTERTAINS MISS POLLY 165 

ally, but I don’t mind this time. Dulcie says you 
like music.” 

Miss Polly beamed. 

'' I do indeed,” she said, heartily. “ I should love 
to hear you sing. It was dear of you to think of 
offering.” 

Do you like hand-organs?” inquired Paul, 
gravely. “ There was a very nice one playing in 
front of our house this morning. It played six 
tunes, and there was a monkey. I threw out five 
cents, and the monkey took off his hat. If you give 
an organ-man five cents, he’ll generally play for 
quite a long time.” 

Miss Polly smiled, and said that hand-organs 
were sometimes rather pleasant, and then Dulcie — 
who had been eagerly awaiting her turn to speak — 
came forward with her offering. 

“ We’ve brought you a present,” she said. It s 
some candied fruit that Miss Leslie sent us all the 
way from California, and it’s delicious. We wanted 
you to have some, but I’m sorry we hadn’t a nicer 
box to put it in.” 

‘‘ It’s really Dulcie’s present,” put in Daisy. 
“ Miss Leslie sent it for her birthday, so we ought 
not to be thanked. We all wanted to bring you a 
present, but this is the first time we ever had any- 
thing we thought you would enjoy.” 

Miss Polly was warm in her thanks, and at 
Maud’s request, consented to try a candied apricot, 


l66 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


which she pronounced to be delicious. Then she 
asked some questions about the birthday, and was 
told the story of the family presents and ‘‘ the make- 
believe party.” 

“ Make-believe things are really quite good fun 
sometimes, when you can’t have real ones,” re- 
marked Daisy, cheerfully, when the story — to which 
Miss Polly had listened with much interest— was 
finished. “ Once Aunt Kate wanted our old dolls 
to put in a missionary box, and we thought it would 
be selfish not to let the poor little missionary children 
have them. We missed them very much at first, 
but then we played we had a whole family of im- 
aginary children, that nobody could see but our- 
selves, and it was so interesting we forgot all about 
the dolls. It was very nice afterwards, for the mis- 
sionary’s little girl wrote us a letter, and told us how 
much she and her sister were enjoying our dolls. 
She described the log-house where they live, away 
out West, where the Indians are, and it was so in- 
teresting. We’ve got the letter still. Would you 
like to see it ? ” 

^ Miss Polly said she would like it very much, and 
then, noticing signs of impatience on Paul’s part, 
she asked him if he would like to begin to sing. 

All right,” said the small boy, promptly. “ I 
guess I’ll sing ‘ The Holy City ’ first. You might 
not understand the French songs.” And without 
further hesitation, he began to sing in a voice so 


PAC/L ENTERTAINS MISS POLLY 167 


clear and true that the little girls gazed at him in 
speechless surprise and admiration. 

There were actually tears in Miss Polly’s eyes 
when the song ended, and her ** Oh, my dear, that 
was a treat ! ” sounded so genuine that Paul’s bosom 
swelled with pride. 

ril sing 'Au Claire De La Lune ' next,” he said, 
condescendingly, and if you don’t understand 
French, Pll translate it into English.” 

It appeared, however, that Miss Polly did under- 
stand French, and perhaps the next half-hour was 
the most enjoyable the invalid had spent since the 
day when her beloved piano was taken away. Paul 
sang song after song, some in English, others in 
French, some sad, some gay; ending with several 
selections from Pinafore,” the charming operetta, 
which had taken the world by storm a year before. 

“You have given me more pleasure than I can 
express,” Miss Polly said, when they had all stopped 
laughing over “ The Ruler of' the Queen’s Navee,” 
and Paul had been forced to admit that his throat 
was getting tired. “ You have a beautiful voice, 
my boy; your mother must be very proud of 
you.” 

“ She is,” said Paul, innocently. “ She’s always 
wanting to show me off ; that’s why I hate it so.” 

“We should not hate to do anything that gives 
other people pleasure,” said Miss Polly gently. 

Paul reddened. 


l68 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


'' I don’t hate singing for you,” he said, bluntly. 
“ I’d do it every day, only we’re going back to Bos- 
ton next Monday. Would you like to have me say 
some poetry ? ” 

“ I would indeed,” said Miss Polly, whereupon 
Paul proceeded to give them '' Young Lochinvar,” 
'' The Baron’s Last Banquet,” and several more of 
the famous old ballads, known to almost every 
schoolboy of the past generation. He had been 
well taught, and as he was really fond of poetry, 
the recitations were given in a spirit which quite 
thrilled the younger members of his audience. 

‘‘ You really are an awfully clever boy, Paul,” re- 
marked Molly, in a tone of some awe, at the con- 
clusion of ‘‘ Bingen on the Rhine.” ‘‘ Aunt Julia 
always said you were, but since we’ve known you 
we thought perhaps she might have made a mis- 
take.” 

That’s because I don’t like showing off,” said 
Paul, quite unruffled by this rather uncomplimentary 
observation. ** I don’t mind doing things for Miss 
Polly, though. I say. Miss Polly, if you’d like to 
have that organ-man with the monkey come every 
day, I think perhaps I could arrange it. I’ve got 
’most three dollars, and I could leave it with the 
girls, and tell them to give him ten cents every time 
he came. An organ-man will come very often to a 
place if he knows he’s going to get ten cents every 
time.” 


PAl/L ENTERTAINS MISS POLLY 1 69 

Miss Polly laughed her old merry laugh, and then 
she suddenly drew Paul to her side. 

You dear, kind little boy,” she said, and before 
the embarrassed Paul fully realized her intention, 
she had kissed him. 

Paul drew away ; he had grown very red. 

'' I don’t like to have anybody kiss me except 
Mother,” he said, ungraciously, “ but I’d be real 
glad to leave that money for the organ-man.” But 
in spite of the ungracious words, Paul was not 
nearly so much offended as he would like to appear, 
and perhaps Miss Polly understood, for she only 
smiled. 

“ I’m afraid we must go now,” said Dulcie, rising 
reluctantly. “ It’s nearly dinner-time, and Aunt 
Julia will wonder where Paul is.” 

‘‘ Well, you have given me a very happy after- 
noon,” said Miss Polly, and I thank you from the 
bottom of my heart. It is very kind of you to want 
to give me the pleasure of that hand-organ, Paul, but 
I think I would a little rather have you spend your 
money in some other way. I shall not forget your 
offer, though, and I hope you may be able to make 
me another visit before you go back to Boston.” 

Isn’t she a darling? ” exclaimed Molly, the mo- 
ment Miss Polly’s door closed behind them, to which 
Paul replied, with unusual gravity: 

She’s about the nicest lady I ever saw, and she’s 
awfully pretty, too. It must be awful to have to 


i;o FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


Stay in that room all the time, and never even go 
down-stairs. I wish she’d let me do that thing 
about the organ-man.” 

Although it was later than the children suspected, 
fortune favored Paul. His mother had been en- 
gaged with visitors for more than an hour, and 
when the front door closed behind the last one, at a 
quarter to six, and Mrs. Chester hurried up-stairs 
to dress for dinner, she found her small son duti- 
fully brushing his hair before the mirror. 

“ Well, and have you and the little girls had 
a pleasant afternoon together ? ” she asked, 
kindly. 

Yes’m,” answered Paul, giving his red crop a 
final pat with the hair-brush. Dulcie loved the 
book. It was the only new present she had, except 
the candy the lady from California sent.” 

“ What is this I hear about a package that came 
for Dulcie by express this afternoon ? ” inquired 
Grandma, as the four little girls trooped into the 
dining-room at six o’clock. “ Mary has been telling 
me about it.” 

'' It was a birthday present from Miss Leslie,” 
said Dulcie, “ a box of the loveliest candied fruit. 
Wasn’t it kind of her to send it. Grandma? ” 

Mrs. Winslow frowned. 

‘‘ Candied fruit,” she repeated. “ I suppose that 
means you have all been eating between meals — a 
thing you are strictly forbidden to do. Go up-stairs 


PAUL ENTERTAINS MISS POLLY IJl 

at once, and bring the box down here to me. You 
should have done so when it first arrived.” 

Dulcie gave a little gasp of dismay. It was true 
they had all helped themselves from the box, but 
that was not by any means the worst thing that had 
happened, for in her eagerness to give poor Miss 
Polly a present, she had emptied out more than half 
the contents of Miss Leslie’s gift. How was 
Grandma to be made to understand that they had 
not eaten all that fruit themselves, without betraying 
their precious secret ? She and her sisters might be 
willing to assume the role of little gourmands, but 
would Paul? However, there was no help for it. 
No one had ever dared deliberately to disobey 
Grandma. So, with an agonized glance at her four 
companions, who had all turned a little pale, Dulcie 
left the room. 

The family were already at the dinner-table when 
she returned, carrying the telltale box, which cer- 
tainly did feel painfully light, considering its size, 
and set it down on the table beside Grandma’s plate. 

‘‘ It took you long enough to get it,” Mrs. Wins- 
low said, dryly. The next time you receive a 
present, don’t try to conceal it from me. Just as I 
supposed ; the box is half empty already.” 

‘‘ Let me see, Mother,” said Mrs. Chester, anx- 
iously. “ Good gracious, Paul, have you been eat- 
ing all those dreadful sweet things between meals? ” 

“ I ate some,” Paul admitted. The little girls 


172 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

were all casting imploring glances at the sharer of 
their secret. 

“ Some ! ” cried Mrs. Chester, reproachfully. 
“You must have eaten quantities. What shall 1 do, 
Mother? He is sure to be ill to-morrow; he has 
such a delicate digestion.'’ 

“ They must all be punished, of course," was 
Grandma’s instant decision. “ They have chosen to 
make little pigs of themselves, and must take the 
consequences. They shall each have a dose of cas- 
tor oil before going to bed, and as they cannot pos- 
sibly be hungry at present, they can go up to the 
nursery, where Mary will bring them each a bowl 
of bread and milk, which is all the dinner they 
require.’’ 

Paul had grown scarlet. Twice he opened his 
lips to speak, and the little girls held their breaths, 
but each time he closed them resolutely, and when 
the four chairs were pushed back from the table, in 
obedience to Grandma’s mandate, he rose with the 
rest. His only protest was against the threatened 
dose. 

“ I’ll eat bread and milk if I’ve got to,’’ he 
compromised, “but I won’t take that nasty castor 
oil.’’ 

“You will do as you are told,’’ said Grandma, 
sternly, and although Paul’s mother looked dis- 
tressed, she dared not interfere. 

“ Oh, Paul, you are a brave, splendid boy,’’ whis- 


PAi/L ENTERTAINS MISS POLLY 173 

pered Molly, gratefully, as the five little culprits 
went solemnly up-stairs together. ‘'We were so 
afraid you were going to tell.” 

Paul shrugged his shoulders impatiently. 

“ I promised I wouldn’t tell,” he said. “ Father 
says it’s dishonorable to break a promise. I don’t 
mind bread and milk very much — it’s better than 
soup with onions in it, anyway — but you don’t sup- 
pose she really meant that about the castor oil, do 
you ? ” 

“ I’m afraid she did,” said Dulcie. “ Grandma 
never says things she doesn’t mean. Will you mind 
it so very much, Paul? It isn’t so awfully bad if 
you take it in orange juice, and drink it very fast, so 
you don’t have time to taste.” 

Paul made a wry face. 

“ It’s nasty,” he said. “ I never took it but once. 
That was when I ate green apples, and Mother 
thought I was going to die. I won’t tell, though, 
you needn’t be scared, I won’t tell, no matter what 
happens.” 

They had reached the nursery by this time, and 
Dulcie paused in the act of turning up the gas. 

Paul,” she said, impressively, “ I think you are 
one of the nicest boys in this world. If you’d lived 
in the time of the martyrs, I’m almost sure you 
would have been one. That saint boy who stood 
and shouted that he was a Christian, while they were 
shooting him with arrows, was about the bravest one 


174 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

I ever read about, but if you’d been alive then, I 
believe you’d have done just the same.” 

Paul was very much flattered. 

Perhaps I might,” he admitted, modestly. “ I’d 
like to read about him. Have you got the book ? ” 
No, I got it out of the library, but I can try to 
get it again, if you would like to read it. Do you 
think you will really be able to swallow that castor 
oil without telling you didn’t eat all that fruit? ” 

Paul nodded reassuringly. 

‘‘ I can do anything I make up my mind to,” he 
said. I’d rather do ’most anything than not be 
allowed to go and see Miss Polly again. I’ve 
thought of lots of interesting things to tell her. I’m 
sure she’d like to hear about our telephone.” 

What’s a telephone? ” inquired Molly, who had 
never heard the word before. 

“ Oh, it’s a wonderful thing. It’s like a speaking 
tube, only you have to ring a bell, and then you hear 
a voice asking what number you want, and you say, 
and if it’s the number of your father’s office, and 
he’s there, he answers you. Not many people have 
telephones in their houses yet, but we have one, and 
Father says he wouldn’t be surprised if some day 
everybody had them, and you would be talking from 
New York to Boston, just as easy as you call down 
to Bridget through the tube.” 

This last announcement was almost too great a 
strain on politeness. 


PAC/L ENTERTAINS MISS POLLY 1/5 

** Of course you’re just making up a story,” said 
Daisy, while Molly and Maud giggled derisively. 
“ You couldn’t possibly hear your father’s voice 
when he was down-town in his office and you were 
at home.” 

I can, too,” maintained Paul. '' If you ever 
come to Boston I’ll show you. Maybe there are 
some telephones in New York, but I’m not sure. 
Father says Boston is generally ahead of other 
places.” 

Molly and Maud still looked unconvinced, and 
even Daisy would have liked to argue the point, but 
Dulcie, who felt that Paul was entitled to a great 
deal of consideration that evening, hastened to 
change the subject. 

“ Let’s talk some more about Miss Polly,” she 
said rather hurriedly. “ Did you see that photo- 
graph of her brother on the bureau ? I think he has 
a very kind face.” 

So no more was said on the subject of telephones, 
and in a short time Mary appeared with the five 
bowls of bread and milk. The evening that fol- 
lowed seemed unusually long. It was impossible to 
settle down to reading or playing games, with the 
awful shadow of castor oil hanging over them. 

I wish Grandma would hurry up and give it to 
us,” complained Molly. ‘‘ Things aren’t as bad 
when they really happen as when you’re expecting 
them.” Daisy shuddered. 


1/6 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YRARS AGO 

“ Let’s think about something else,” she said. 

Read ‘ Little Men,’ Dulcie. Perhaps we’ll get so 
much interested we’ll forget about the oil.” 

Dulcie consented, but even the fascination of Miss 
Alcott’s charming story was powerless to drive away 
unpleasant anticipations, and when at eight o’clock 
Grandma’s familiar footstep was heard ascending 
the stairs, the five little faces were very pale and 
troubled. But though Paul was pale, he was reso- 
lute. Not once did his courage fail, and when his 
turn came, he swallowed the disagreeable dose with- 
out a murmur. 

I had no idea I should grow so fond of Paul,” 
remarked Dulcie to Daisy, when they were all in bed. 
“ I’m glad we told him about Miss Polly. I know 
she loved hearing him sing.” 

“ Paul is a very nice boy,” agreed Daisy, “ but 
I’m afraid he doesn’t always tell the truth. That 
thing about the telephone couldn’t possibly be 
true.” 

“ It was just a story,” said Dulcie, indulgently. 
“ People often make up stories just for fun. Why, 
it wasn’t any sillier than the story I made up about 
the fairy who lives in a music-box, and when people 
wound it up, they could hear a real voice singing 
inside.” 

But we all knew that was only a make-up,” 
objected Daisy. ‘‘We knew it wasn’t true. But 
Paul really tried to make us believe they had that 


PAC/L ENTERTAINS MISS POLLY I// 


wonderful thing in his house, and he looked so seri- 
ous when he was telling it, that if it hadn’t been so 
perfectly impossible, I think I should have believed 
it was true.” 


CHAPTER XII 


DAISY WRITES A LETTER 

T he May of 1880 was long remembered as 
the hottest spring month in many years. 
Not a drop of rain fell between April and 
June, and for weeks the sun poured down upon the 
city streets, with almost the scorching heat of July. 
Many people left town earlier than usual, and the 
ferries and the near-by beaches were thronged with 
tourists, in search of a cool breeze. But in the Wins- 
low house things went on much as usual. For 
years it had been Mrs. Winslow's custom to remain 
in town until June fifteenth, on which date she 
moved her household to the old family homestead 
on the Hudson, there to remain for precisely three 
months, and she was not a person to be turned from 
a custom of years by a little hot weather. 

How the children longed for Lizzie, and the trips 
to Central Park. The daily walk in Washington 
Square seemed very tame and uninteresting in com- 
parison, and on some afternoons the heat there was 
almost unbearable. But they were not allowed to 
venture farther from home, and without car- fare the 
trip to Central Park was an impossibility. Lessons 
178 


DAISY WRITES A LETTER 1 79 

became a daily drudgery, which even Dulcie dreaded, 
and Miss Hammond was so tired and nervous, after 
a long winter’s work, that she was not much better 
able to teach than her pupils were to study. 

Daisy, who was not very strong, suffered more 
than the others, and became so pale and languid that 
even Grandma noticed it, and administered a most 
disagreeable tonic three times a day, which made the 
approach of meal-times a veritable nightmare to the 
child. The tonic helped Daisy’s appetite, but did 
not cure the headaches, and the little girl spent more 
than one hot afternoon lying on the nursery sofa, 
while Dulcie or Molly sponged her forehead with 
cold water drawn from the tap in the bath-room. 

It was a broiling Sunday afternoon, towards the 
end of the month, and Daisy was just recovering 
from one of those distressing headaches. The 
others had all gone to afternoon service, with 
Grandma and Aunt Kate, but she had been excused, 
because she had grown so white and faint during 
the morning service that Grandma had been obliged 
to send her out of church before the sermon, with 
Molly to look after her, and take her home. But a 
long nap on the sofa, with her head swathed in a wet 
towel, had cured the headache, and as the clock 
struck four she awoke to the realization that she 
was feeling much better. 

I believe I’ll go and see Miss Polly,” she decided, 
after a little reflection. “We haven’t any of us 


l 80 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


been for more than a week, and if I try to read my 
head may get bad again.” 

So she rose from the sofa, and having removed 
the wet towel, and smoothed her hair, started for 
her call. But just outside the nursery door she 
paused, and her face brightened. 

‘‘ ril run down to the yard first, and pick her a 
bunch of syringa,” she said to herself. “ The bush 
is all out, and Grandma will never notice if I take 
a little. Miss Polly loves flowers.” 

Accordingly, instead of going to the trunk-room, 
she ran down the three flights of stairs to the dining- 
room, and out through the open French window, to 
the little balcony, from which a flight of steps de- 
scended to the back yard. It was a large sunny 
yard, and in old Dr. Winslow’s time had been quite 
a garden, but Grandma did not take much interest 
in flowers, and there was little of the garden left, 
except a syringa bush and a few rose-bushes, which 
seldom bloomed until after the family had gone 
away for the summer. It was Mary’s Sunday out, 
but Bridget was entertaining visitors in the kitchen. 
Daisy could hear their voices, as she hastily plucked 
a small bunch of the fragrant flowers. She dared 
not take many, lest Grandma should notice, and ask 
awkward questions. She was just turning back to 
the steps, when her ear caught some words uttered 
by one of Bridget’s visitors. 

‘‘She’s awful bad,” the woman was saying; “I 


DAISY WRITES A LETTER l8l 

don’t believe she’ll last the summer through. It’s a 
terrible pity, for a sweeter, kinder little thing never 
lived in this world, and as to her patience, stayin’ all 
day long, with never a soul to speak to, it just makes 
you ashamed to complain about anything yourself.” 

Daisy stood still, and her heart gave a sudden 
throb. Could they be talking of Miss Polly ? She 
remembered that Bridget and Mary knew some of 
the servants in the boarding-house next door. 

Ain’t she got nobody belongin’ to her ? ” Bridget 
asked, sympathetically. 

“ She’s got a brother somewhere, but I guess he 
don’t care much about her. He never comes to see 
her, anyhow. If Miss Collins was at home I 
wouldn’t worry, but she’s gone off to take care of 
her sick sister in Virginia, and Mrs. Brown, who’s 
looking after the house while she’s away, don’t take 
no more interest in poor little Miss Polly than if she 
wasn’t there at all. Why, the poor thing don’t eat 
enough to keep a canary alive, and she’s gettin’ 
paler and thinner before your eyes.” 

‘‘ I suppose you wouldn’t dare have a doctor to 
see her, would you, Maggie ? ” put in another voice. 

What Maggie answered Daisy did not wait to 
hear. She had heard enough already, and her heart 
was very heavy, as she mounted the steps, with her 
precious flowers. Until that moment she had not 
realized how much she had grown to love Miss 
Polly. 


1 82 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


“ She mustn't die, oh, she mustn't ! ” thought the 
little girl, winking back the rising tears. “ Oh, if 
she would only write to her brother, and tell him all 
about everything! ” And she thought of the kind, 
handsome face in the photograph on Miss Polly's 
bureau. 

But by the time she reached her friend's door, she 
had succeeded in controlling the desire to cry, al- 
though her voice had not quite its usual cheerful 
sound. Miss Polly seldom came to the door now, 
and this afternoon she was not even in her wheel- 
chair, but lying upon her bed, reading her Bible. 
But her greeting was as hearty as ever, and she 
buried her face in the bunch of syringa, with a little 
cry of delight. 

Oh, my dear," she said, joyfully, “ you don't 
know what a pleasure you have brought me. It is 
so odd; I was dreaming last night of my old home 
in Vermont, and I could see the syringa-bush that 
grew by the parsonage gate. It was all so real that 
when I woke it seemed as if I must have really been 
there. Would you mind putting these in water for 
me? There's an extra glass on the wash-stand. I 
can't bear to have them fade, and if you stand the 
glass on the little table beside my bed, I can look at 
them and smell them all the evening. I am afraid 
I have been very lazy to-day. It was so warm this 
morning, and I felt so tired, that I thought I would 
just lie in bed for a while, and later it seemed hardly 


DAISY WRITES A LETTER 1 83 

worth while getting up for such a few hours. It's 
Maggie’s day out, too, and I don’t like to trouble her 
more tlian I can help. Oh, how nicely you have 
arranged the flowers! Now come and sit down, 
and tell me all about what you have been doing 
lately.” 

Daisy complied, but as she talked, telling of the 
little every-day happenings, it seemed as if her heart 
grew heavier and heavier. How thin Miss Polly’s 
hands were, and there surely did not used to be those 
great hollows in her cheeks. Try as she might, she 
could not always keep the quiver out of her voice. 
Miss Polly’s quick ear did not fail to notice the 
fact. 

What is it, dearie ? ” she asked gently, laying 
a soft little hand on Daisy’s. Is something trou- 
bling you? Don’t you feel well to-day? ” 

Not very,” Daisy admitted, glad of this excuse; 
I’ve had a headache all day. I had to go out of 
church before the sermon, and Grandma didn’t like 
it. I think she was afraid I pretended my head was 
worse than it was, but I didn’t really.” 

'' I am sure you didn’t,” said Miss Polly, smiling, 
although I have heard of * Sunday headaches ’ 
before. My brother Tom used to have them when 
he was a boy, and Father finally cured him by in- 
sisting that if he were not able to go to church, he 
must go to bed, and stay there for the rest of the 
day. It proved quite a wonderful cure.” 


1 84 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


Daisy laughed, but in a moment she was grave 
again. 

'' I wish Grandma would believe us,” she said. 
‘'We don't tell stories, but she thinks we do, and it 
makes Dulcie so angry. We try to remember that 
she's an old lady, and that we are only her step- 
grandchildren, anyway, but it is a little hard some- 
times, especially when we know she doesn't like 
having us stay with her. Paul heard his mother say 
we were an incumbrance. Dulcie looked up that 
word in the dictionary, and it means the same thing 
as being a burden.” 

Involuntarily Miss Polly’s thin fingers closed 
more tightly over the little hand she was hold- 
ing. 

“ How soon is your father coming home ? ” she 
asked abruptly. 

Daisy’s face brightened. 

“ Oh, we are very happy about that,” she said ; 
“ we think he may come this summer. He hasn't 
promised, but in his last letter he said we might see 
him sooner than we expected, and we expected him 
next winter, anyway.” 

“That is good news indeed,” said Miss Polly, 
heartily, “ although I suppose it will mean that I 
shall lose my little neighbors. By the way, won't 
you be leaving town for the summer before long? ” 

“ Not till the fifteenth of June,” said Daisy. 
“ Grandma says that makes a long enough summer 


DAISY WRITES A LETTER 185 

for her. She doesn’t enjoy the country as much as 
we do.” 

Miss /Polly sighed, and glanced lovingly at her 
bunch of syringa. 

“ The country must be very beautiful just now,” 
she said a little wistfully. '' Tom wrote me the 
lilac-bush in his garden was in full bloom. I should 
love to see blooming flowers again.” 

‘‘If you wheel your chair into the back room you 
can see our syringa-bush,” suggested Daisy. “ Next 
month there will be some roses, too, but of course a 
back yard isn’t like the real country. Do you love 
the country very much. Miss Polly? ” 

“ Oh, my dear, I love it more than words can ex- 
press. I lie here thinking of it these warm days, 
and almost every night I dream of my little room 
at home. There used to be a robin’s nest in the 
tree just outside my window. I hope the people 
who live in the parsonage now keep the lily bed 
weeded; Father was so proud of that bed.” 

“ Your brother lives in the country, doesn’t he? ” 
Daisy asked, rather timidly. 

“ Yes, right on the shore of Lake Michigan. It 
is only half an hour by train from Chicago, but Tom 
says the country is lovely. I have been writing to 
Tom to-day, and I think it was the hardest letter I 
have ever had to write, because I was obliged to say 
something that I knew would cause him pain.” 

“ Oh, Miss Polly, why ? ” cried tender-hearted 


1 86 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


Daisy. “ He's so fond of you. Did you really 
have to make him unhappy? " 

I am afraid so, dear, and the thought is very 
hard to bear. I had a letter from him yesterday, 
such a dear, kind letter." 

Does he want you to come and make him a 
visit ? " inquired Daisy, in a tone of breathless in- 
terest. 

Miss Polly nodded. 

“ He and Helen want me to come and spend the 
summer. This is Tom's fourth letter on the sub- 
ject, and I have had two from Helen besides. I 
have had to make such foolish, shallow excuses, and 
now I am afraid Tom will be hurt, and think I don't 
care to come to them." 

Miss Polly broke off abruptly, and hastily brushed 
away a tear. It was the first tear Daisy had ever 
seen the cheerful little invalid shed. 

'' Oh, dear Miss Polly," she pleaded, “ please, 
please don't be unhappy. Why do you keep on not 
telling, when you know your brother loves you so 
much? Don't send that horrid letter. Write an- 
other one, and tell him you’ll come. If you’re too 
tired to write. I’ll write for you, and you can tell me 
what to say. Oh, Miss Polly dear, please, 
please ! " 

But for once Miss Polly did not heed her little 
neighbor. She had buried her face in the pillow, 
and was sobbing as if her heart would break. 


DAISY WRITES A LETTER 


187 


“ It*s all my pride, my foolish, wicked pride,” she 
moaned. I can’t bear to be a burden. I cannot 
bear to have Tom know how I have failed. He 
didn’t want me to come to New York by myself. 
We almost quarrelled about it. And all these years 
I have been deceiving him — letting him think I had 
succeeded in my plans — oh, my dear, my dear, I 
have done very wrong, and now I am ashamed to 
confess the truth.” 

The tears of sympathy were streaming down 
Daisy’s own cheeks, but at these last words of Miss 
Polly’s she could not refrain from a little gasp of 
astonishment. 

“ But you haven’t failed,” she cried, eagerly. 
‘‘ Oh, how could you possibly think you had ? 
You’re the most beautiful Christian we ever knew, 
and when your brother knows all about it, he’ll be 
so proud of you he won’t know what to do. We 
were talking about you yesterday, and Dulcie said 
she wished she could do something like that, just to 
make Papa proud of her. Oh, Miss Polly, please 
don’t cry any more; it makes me cry too, and I’m 
afraid it’ll bring my headache on again.” 

“ No, no, dear, I won’t,” and Miss Polly made a 
hasty search for her handkerchief. ‘‘ I am a fool- 
ish little woman to say I know, but I haven’t been 
feeling very well lately, and I suppose things bother 
me more than they would otherwise. Now we are 
not going to talk any more about unpleasant things. 


1 88 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

I want to hear about Paul. Have you had a letter 
from him lately? ” 

Daisy stayed for another half-hour, and Miss 
Polly did her best to seem cheerful, and to take an 
interest in all she was told, but it was easy to see 
the effort was a painful one, and at last the little girl 
rose to go, fearing she had stayed too long already. 
Miss Polly seemed very tired, and, contrary to her 
custom, did not urge her visitor to stay longer. 

Will you do something for me, dear ? ” she said, 
as Daisy bent to kiss her good-bye. I want to get 
my letter to Tom posted this evening, and I am 
afraid it will be too late when Maggie comes home. 
I didn’t finish writing until after she went out. It’s 
right here on the table, all stamped and ready to go. 
Would it be too much trouble to take it to the letter- 
box at the corner ? ” 

“Of course it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” 

said Daisy, “ only — only ” A warning glance 

from Miss Polly checked the impetuous words of 
protest, and with another kiss, she hurried away, in 
her hand the letter that was to carry to Tom Oliver 
the news that his sister “ preferred spending the 
summer in New York.” 

Daisy did not take the letter at once to the post- 
box on the corner. On the contrary, she carried it 
back to the nursery, and there laid it down on the 
desk, where she continued to stare at it for several 
minutes. She was very pale, but there was a bright. 


DAISY WRITES A LETTER l8g 

excited expression in her eyes, and her hands 
twitched nervously. Suddenly she went over to the 
bed she shared with Dulcie, and dropping down on 
her knees beside it, closed her eyes, and folded her 
hands. 

“ Oh, dear God,’' she whispered, ‘‘ please forgive 
me if what I am going to do is very dreadful. I 
can’t let poor Miss Polly go on being so unhappy ; I 
am afraid she may die, and then her brother will feel 
so terribly to think he never knew about how brave 
and wonderful she’s been. Please tell me if I ought 
to write the letter, and don’t let Miss Polly be very 
angry with me when she knows. Amen.” 

For a few moments the room was very still. 
Then Daisy rose, and there was a look of settled 
determination on her face. 

“ I think God wants me to do it,” she said, un- 
consciously speaking out loud. I feel as if He 
was telling me I ought to do it.” And, without 
further hesitation, she seated herself at the desk, 
and having selected a sheet of paper, began to write. 
This is what she wrote: 

‘‘Dear Mr. Oliver: 

“ I hope you won’t think it very queer to get 
a letter from a person you don’t know, but I am only 
a little girl, and if what I am doing is wrong, will 
you please forgive me? I am afraid Miss Polly 
will be very angry at first, but perhaps she won’t 
afterwards, because I am almost sure she would like 


IQO FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


to have you know about everything, only she is 
afraid to tell you herself. She is very proud, and 
she doesn’t want to be a burden, but she loves you 
better than any one in the world, and it makes her 
terribly unhappy to have to hurt your feelings. 

“ My name is Daisy Winslow, and I live next 
door to Miss Polly. My sisters and I go to see her 
very often, and she says she has told you about us. 
We all love her dearly, and it made us very sad 
when she had to sell her piano, because the bank 
failed. She was very brave about it, and tried to 
make us think she didn’t mind, but we could see by 
her eyes that she did. She used to sing and play a 
great deal, and we loved hearing her. I think she 
was quite happy while she had her piano, even 
though she did have to stay in a wheel-chair all the 
time, and could never go out, but now she is ill, and 
she seems to get thinner every time we see her. I 
went to see her this afternoon, and she told me how 
you wanted her to come and spend the summer, and 
how she had to pretend she didn’t want to. She 
cried about it, and it was dreadful. She is afraid 
that if you find out the real reason why she can’t 
come, you will be angry because she has deceived 
you, but I know you won’t, because she is the 
bravest, splendidest lady in the world, and nobody 
could possibly help loving her. 

‘‘ I think perhaps I had better explain a little more, 
or you may not be able to understand. You see, 
when Miss Polly had that accident, three years ago, 
she never really got well. She has had to stay in a 
wheel-chair ever since, and the doctors told her she 
would never be able to walk again. 

I hope you won’t think me interfering for writ- 



Daisy took the two letters, flew down-stairs, and out into 

THE street. — Page 191, 




DAISY IVRITES A LETTER I9I 

ing what Miss Polly didn’t want you to know, but I 
love her so, and she is so ill, and I just couldn’t help 
it. Please come and see her as soon as you can, and 
don’t let her know it even if she should be the least 
little bit of a burden. I am sure she couldn’t be a 
very big one, because she is so lovely. 

“ If I have made a great many mistakes in this 
letter, please excuse them, for I am only just eleven. 

From your little friend, 

Daisy Winslow.” 

Daisy’s heart was beating very fast, as she slipped 
her letter into an envelope, and copied the address 
from the other letter on the desk. She dared not 
read over what she had written, for fear of losing 
courage. It was such a terribly bold, unheard-of 
thing that she had done, and yet — Maggie had said 
Miss Polly might not live through the summer. She 
must get the letter posted quickly, before she had 
time to change her mind. 

Having addressed and stamped her envelope, she 
took the two letters, and without even waiting to get 
her hat, she flew down-stairs, and out into the street. 
It was only a few steps to the corner where the 
letter-box was, and in less than five minutes from the 
time she left the nursery both letters had taken the 
first step on their journey to Chicago. 

When the others returned, half an hour later, they 
found Daisy lying on the sofa, with her head buried 
in ihe cushions. 

“Why, Daisy,” exclaimed Dulcie, bending over 


192 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

her sister in real anxiety, “ what is it ? Is your head 
worse ? ” 

It isn’t my head,” Daisy answered, lifting a 
swollen, tear-stained face from the sofa pillows; 
“ it’s — it’s — oh, girls, I’ve done the most dreadful 
thing, and I’m so frightened I don’t know what I 
shall do!” 


CHAPTER XIII 


DECORATION DAY 

T he big Decoration Day parade has long 
become a thing of the past, but in the days 
when the Winslows were children it was 
looked upon as one of the principal events of year. 
All the State militia came to New York for the occa- 
sion, and the West Point cadets turned out in full 
force. For days beforehand people poured into the 
city, and hotels and boarding-houses were crowded 
to their utmost capacity. The line of march was 
down Fifth Avenue from Central Park to Four- 
teenth Street, and by eight o'clock in the morning 
the street was thronged with eager sightseers. 

The Winslows' house was not on Fifth Avenue, 
and as Grandma would not allow the children to 
stand in the street, their only hope of seeing the big 
parade was the possibility that some one of Grand- 
ma's friends might invite them to her house. 

** Mrs. Livingston Leroy asked us last year," 
Dulcie reminded her sisters. “ Perhaps she may 
again." 

‘‘ Oh, I hope she will ! " cried Molly. “ Maud 
and I couldn't go last year, and I do love to see the 

193 


194 four girls of forty years ago 


soldiers, and hear the bands. Don't you hope we 
can go, Daisy ? ” 

'' Yes," answered Daisy, but she did not speak 
with much enthusiasm. 

Poor Daisy was not quite her usual cheerful self 
in those days. She went about with such a strange, 
absent-minded air that Aunt Kate declared she must 
be half asleep, and Miss Hammond completely lost 
her patience, and pronounced her “ a very stupid 
little girl." Dulcie and Molly were very gentle 
with her, but even they had little in the way of com- 
fort to offer. Nearly a week had passed since the 
sending of that letter to Chicago, and as yet no 
word had been received in reply. 

“ I don’t see how she dared do it," Molly said to 
Dulcie, when the two were alone together. “ I 
wouldn’t have done such a thing for the world, 
would you? ’’ 

“No, I wouldn’t," agreed Dulcie. “ And to 
think it should have been Daisy of all people ! She 
never did a bold thing like that before, and she isn’t 
nearly as likely to get into scrapes as the rest of us." 

“ She’s afraid to go and see Miss Polly," said 
Molly. “ She hasn’t been since she sent the letter. 
I don’t wonder she’s afraid. I should be, too, if I 
had done such an awful thing as write and tell a 
lady’s brother something she’d been keeping a secret 
from him for three years." 

It was Maud who, on the evening before Decora- 


DECORA TION DA Y 


195 


tion Day, at last brought the glad tidings to the 
nursery that a note had come from Mrs. Livingston 
Leroy, inviting the whole family to watch the pro- 
cession from her windows on Fifth Avenue. 

“ She said all the family, but Grandma says only 
two of us can go,” finished Maud, ruefully. Shall 
we have to draw lots ? ” 

No,” said Dulcie, though her face had fallen at 
the news. '‘You and Molly must go, of course; 
Daisy and I went last year.” 

Maud gave a little skip of delight, but Molly 
looked grave. 

" I hate doing things without you and Daisy,” 
she said. " Don’t you think Grandma may change 
her mind and let us all go ? ” 

“ Grandma never changes her mind,” affirmed 
Dulcie, which was, indeed, quite true. 

Mrs. Winslow told them all of the invitation, and 
added that she would take two of the little girls 
with her, but that as to taking four children out of 
one household, the idea was not to be considered for 
a moment. 

" Mrs. Livingston Leroy seems to be a very kind 
lady,” ventured Molly. " Do you think she would 
mind very much if we all went? ” 

" I should mind,” returned Grandma, grimly, 
" and that is more to the point. You may decide 
among yourselves which are to go, and which remain 
at home.” 


196 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

There was nothing more to be said, and the next 
morning, soon after breakfast, Dulcie and Daisy 
watched their two younger sisters depart for the 
scene of festivities, accompanied by those two stern 
guardians. Grandma and Aunt Kate. 

“What shall we do this morning?” inquired 
Dulcie, turning away from the parlor window with 
a sigh. “ The nursery is being cleaned, so we 
can’t go up there. Shall we stay here or go out on 
the sidewalk ? ” 

“ I don’t care,” said Daisy, listlessly. “ Dulcie, 
have you any idea how long it takes for a letter to 
go to Chicago ? ” 

Dulcie shook her head. 

“ I think it must take some time,” she said, “ but 
not nearly so long as it takes one to go to California. 
I wrote to Uncle Stephen nearly a month ago, and I 
haven’t had any answer yet. I’m sure he’ll answer, 
because I asked him that very important question, 
about whether he’s really going to marry Miss Les- 
lie. I asked him please to answer as soon as pos- 
sible, because if he is going to marry her, we wanted 
to begin making the wedding presents.” 

“ Don’t letters sometimes get lost ? ” Daisy in- 
quired, anxiously. 

“ I suppose they do, but not often. I heard that 
minister friend of Aunt Kate’s say the United States 
Mail was a very remarkable institution. I think it 
would be rather nice to go out for a while. We 


DECORA TION DAY 1 9 / 

might see some of the soldiers marching up-town to 
join in the parade.” 

Daisy acquiesced languidly, and, having procured 
their hats, the two little girls went out to walk 
slowly up and down the block. It was a very 
hot morning, and after half an hour of this 
monotonous exercise, even Dulcie’s spirits began to 
flag. 

“ I guess we may as well go in,” she decided. 
“ All the soldiers must be in the procession by this 
time, and I’d rather read than stay out here any 
longer. I got a very interesting book from the 
library yesterday. It’s called ‘ Violet, or Through 
Cross to Crown.’ I’ll read it aloud to you if you 
like.” 

“All right,” said Daisy, and accordingly they 
turned their steps in a homeward direction. 

They had just reached their own steps when a 
cab drew up before the house next door, and for 
some unaccountable reason, Daisy’s heart suddenly 
began to beat very fast indeed. 

“ Look, Dulcie,” she whispered, grasping her sis- 
ter’s arm ; “ there’s a gentleman getting out, and 
there’s a lady inside, with a baby in her lap.” 

“ Well, what of it? ” inquired Dulcie in surprise. 
“ They’ve probably come to see somebody in the 

boarding-house. You don’t mean to think ” 

She paused in sudden excitement. 

“ I don’t know,” said Daisy, who was beginning 


198 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

to tremble. “ I couldn’t see the gentleman’s face, 
he went up the steps so fast, but — but it might be ; 
it really might.” 

By this time they had reached the top of their own 
steps, and Dulcie had rung the door-bell. 

“ I don’t see how we can possibly find out,” she 
said, as they stood waiting for Mary to let them in. 
“ Oh, see, he’s coming down again ; he must have 
made a mistake in the house.” 

Daisy leaned forward eagerly, in the hope of get- 
ting a glimpse of the stranger’s face, and at that 
moment Mary opened the door. 

“ Well, ain’t you coming in? ” she inquired, rather 
impatiently, for both children appeared completely 
absorbed in the actions of a strange young man, who 
was speaking to a lady in a cab. The street was 
very quiet, and the little girls could hear every word 
he said. 

It’s that house,” the young man was saying, and 
as he spoke, he glanced directly up at the Winslows’ 
front door. “Will you get out, or shall I make 
some inquiries first? ” 

“We may as well all get out,” the lady answered, 
and the next moment the baby had been transferred 
from its mother to its father, and a very pretty 
bright- faced young woman had stepped out of the 
cab. 

“Well, what’s the matter?” demanded Mary, 
still more impatiently. “If you don’t want to come 


DECORA TION DAY 1 99 

in, what did you bring me all the way down-stairs to 
answer the bell for ? ” 

“ They’re coming up here,” gasped Daisy, “ and 
it is — oh, Dulcie, I’m sure it is.” 

“ Is the name of one of these little girls Daisy 
Winslow ? ” inquired the young man, as he came up 
the steps, and though his voice was kind, and 
his face very pleasant, Daisy shrank behind her 
sister, in a fit of uncontrollable shyness and embar- 
rassment. So it was Dulcie who answered the ques- 
tion. 

‘‘ Yes, sir,” she faltered, that is, at least — I am 
Dulcie Winslow. Do you want to speak to my sis- 
ter Daisy ? ” 

I do very much indeed. May we come in? My 
name is Oliver, and I think you know my sister, who 
lives next door.” 

Just how it all happened Dulcie and Daisy could 
never clearly recall, but in a very short space of 
time, they had gone into the house, passed the as- 
tonished Mary, and were seated in the parlor; the 
baby, once more restored to her mother’s lap, gazing 
about her, with an air of serene content, and uttering 
little crows and gurgles of satisfaction. Daisy’s 
first impulse had been to escape, but on second 
thought she decided that it would be cowardly to 
leave Dulcie alone, to take the consequences of 
whatever might be in store for them, so she stayed 
where she was, and, after all, there was nothing 


200 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


very alarming in the young man’s few words of 
explanation. 

'' I received a letter a few days ago,” he began, as 
soon as they were all seated, and Mary, still very 
much puzzled, and not at all sure of the wisdom of 
admitting strangers in the absence of Mrs. Winslow 
and her daughter, had closed the front door. '' It 
was signed Daisy Winslow, and the writer said she 
was a little girl who lived next door to my sister 
Miss Oliver.” 

I wrote it,” said Daisy, desperately. “ Are 
you Miss Polly’s brother ? ” 

Yes, I am,” the young man answered, and he 
held out his hand with such a kind, friendly smile, 
that all Daisy’s fears melted away on the instant. 

'' I want to thank you for telling me what you 
did in that letter, but I must ask a few more ques- 
tions before seeing my sister. That is why we 
came here first. This is my wife, Mrs. Oliver.” 

“ Oh, I’m so glad you’ve brought her,” cried 
Daisy, joyfully, ** and the baby, too. Miss Polly 
will be so happy to see you all. She’s got your pic- 
tures, and she’s told us so much about you, and— - 
and — oh, I am so glad, so glad ! ” Suddenly Daisy’s 
over-strained nerves gave way, and she began to cry. 

It was Mrs. Oliver who drew the trembling child 
down beside her on the sofa, and soothed and com- 
forted her while her husband questioned Dulcie. 
The letter had been a great shock to him, he said; 


DECORA TION DA Y 


201 


he had never dreamed that his sister was not per- 
fectly well. Could Dulcie give him any particulars 
of the case ? And Dulcie, only too glad to tell him 
dear Miss Polly’s story, told all she knew of the 
little cripple’s courage and unselfishness. The story 
lost nothing in the telling, and before it was finished 
Mrs. Oliver was crying softly, and there were tears 
in her husband’s eyes as well. 

“ She’s the dearest, loveliest person,” finished 
Dulcie, with a catch in her voice, and Daisy added 
pleadingly: 

You’re not angry with her, are you, Mr. 
Oliver? ” 

“ Angry,” repeated Miss Polly’s brother huskily, 
'' no, indeed, how could I be ? God bless her. It 
has been a wretched mistake, that’s all, and I am 
very much to blame for not having come to see her 
long before this, and found out for myself how mat- 
ters were. I think we can go now, Helen; there 
doesn’t seem to be any more to hear.” 

But Mrs. Oliver looked a little doubtful. 

“ Don’t you think she ought to be prepared first ? ” 
she suggested. ‘‘ The shock of seeing us so unex- 
pectedly might be bad for her, if she is not strong.” 

Perhaps you are right,” Tom Oliver admitted. 
“ I was so anxious to see the dear little woman that 
for the moment I forgot everything else. We had 
better see Miss Collins, and get her to break the 


news. 


202 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


"'Miss Collins has gone away,” said Dulcie. 

Her sister was ill, and she went to take care of her. 
A Mrs. Brown is keeping the house while she’s 
away, and I don’t think she knows Miss Polly very 
well.” 

Mr. Oliver looked a good deal perplexed. 

What shall we do ? ” he inquired of his wife. 
“ I suppose we had better see this Mrs. Brown, at 
any rate.” 

Mrs. Oliver glanced doubtfully from her husband 
to the two little girls. 

‘'Do you think you could do it?” she asked. 
“ You have both been very kind to Miss Polly, and 
I know she loves you.” 

“ I think we could,” said Dulcie. “ I’ve read 
about breaking news to people, and I know you 
mustn’t do it too suddenly. Oh, Mrs. Oliver, may 
Daisy and I tell Miss Polly ? ” 

“ I think you may,” said Mrs. Oliver, smiling. 
“ I am sure they can be trusted, Tom.” 

Mr. Oliver nodded, and they all rose. It was 
then that Mary, who had remained in the back- 
ground, an interested spectator of the whole scene, 
stepped forward with a word of protest. 

“Where are you all going?” she inquired, sus- 
piciously. “ You children can’t go running off with 
people you don’t know. Your grandma would be 
very angry.” 

“ We’re only going next door to see Mr. Oliver’s 


DECORA TION DA Y 


203 


^sister/’ Dulcie explained. '‘We know her very 
well, and we often go to see her, so it’s all right.” 
And without further explanation, she pushed past 
the still unconvinced Mary, and two minutes later 
was ringing the door-bell of the boarding-house next 
door. 

The door was opened by a maid, who looked more 
than a little surprised at the sight of so many vis- 
itors, but when Mr. Oliver gave his name, and 
added that he had come to see his sister, the woman’s 
face brightened perceptibly. 

“ The Lord be praised! ” she ejaculated. “ Miss 
Polly’ 11 be that glad to see you. I’ll run right up, 
and tell her you’re here.” She was already half- 
way up the first flight of stairs, when Mr. Oliver 
called her back. 

“ I think we will let these little girls go up 
first,” he said. “ I am afraid the shock of seeing 
us without any preparation might be too much 
for my sister. I hear she has not been well 
lately.” 

Maggie — for it was the faithful Maggie — looked 
rather disappointed, but was forced to submit. And 
then Daisy had an inspiration. 

“ Couldn’t we take the baby ? ” she asked, eagerly, 
appealing to Mrs. Oliver. “ Miss Polly loves 
babies. One of the boarders brought her little 
nephew to see her once, and she enjoyed it so much. 
We wouldn’t tell her whose baby it was, just at first, 


204 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

you know. It would be just like doing a thing in a 
book.” 

Mrs. Oliver glanced at her husband. 

“ I think baby would be good,” she said, “ but 
how about carrying her up-stairs ? ” 

'' ril tell you what you might do,” broke in 
Maggie, who was almost as much excited as the 
children themselves. The room next Miss Polly^s 
is vacant just now. You might all come up, and 
you and the gentleman wait there, while the children 
take the baby in.” 

This suggestion was eagerly adopted, and the 
whole party proceeded up-stairs. As they climbed 
flight after flight, the little girls noticed that Miss 
Polly^s brother grew very grave and silent, and when 
they reached the top floor, he gave the baby to 
Dulcie, without a word. There was a moment of 
breathless anxiety lest baby Oliver should spoil 
everything by beginning to cry, but she was — as 
her mother frequently informed her friends — a re- 
markably amiable child and although she looked a 
little surprised at being transferred from her father’s 
arms to those of a stranger, she made no protest, 
and the next moment had seized one of Dulcie’s long 
braids, with a crow of delight. 

How the children’s hearts beat, as they knocked at 
Miss Polly’s door, and turned the handle, in an- 
swer to her gentle “ Come in.” The invalid was 
not in bed, but in her wheel-chair, engaged in 


DECORA TION DA Y 


205 


darning stockings, but at sight of her little vis- 
itors, and the baby in Dulcie’s arms, she dropped 
her stocking, with a little cry of surprise and 
pleasure. 

“ A baby ! how adorable ! Oh, my dears, where 
did it come from? Whose baby is it? '' 

She belongs to some people we know,’’ faltered 
Dulcie. “We asked if we might bring her to see 
you. We knew you loved babies.” 

“ Indeed I do love them. What a little beauty. 
Do you think she wculd be frightened if you gave 
her to me, just for a minute ? ” 

“ I don’t think she would,” said Dulcie ; “ she let 
me take her, and she doesn’t seem shy.” 

Miss Polly held out her arms, and Dulcie put the 
smiling, crowing baby into them, and with a little 
cooing sound the invalid cuddled the child to her 
heart. 

“ Oh, the darling,” she murmured, “ the precious 
little darling ! That’s right, put your head down on 
my shoulder. You know I love babies, don’t you? 
What is her name, Dulcie ? ” 

“ Her name is — is Mary,” gasped Dulcie, who 
was finding considerable difficulty in keeping the 
tremor out of her voice. 

“ Mary,” repeated Miss Polly, softly ; “ that is my 
little niece’s name, but they call her Polly.” 

“ They call this one Polly, too,” said Daisy, com- 
ing to her sister’s relief, “ at least we think they do. 


206 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

We don’t know her father and mother very well. 
We never saw them till this morning.” 

Daisy was very much embarrassed, but Miss Polly 
was too much absorbed in the baby to notice any- 
thing unusual in her manner. 

'' Look at her dimples,” she cried, admiringly, 
“ and her hair is going to curl beautifully when she 
is a little older.” 

“ She likes you ; she’s patting your cheek,” cried 
Daisy, joyfully. Oh, Miss Polly dear, wouldn’t 
you love to have her all the time — to live in the same 
house, I mean ? ” 

Miss Polly smiled rather sadly. 

I should never be lonely,” she said, “ but I am 
afraid I shouldn’t be of much use. What should I 
do if the baby cried and wanted something to 
eat ? ” 

“ Oh, but her mother would be there to take care 
of her,” explained Daisy. “ She’s got such a pretty 
mother. Miss Polly. I’m quite sure you would love 
the baby’s mother.” 

'' I am sure I should,” Miss Polly agreed. “ Per- 
haps you will bring her to see me some time. Is she 
visiting you ? ” 

“ No,” said Daisy, “ she’s — she’s come to see 
somebody who lives in this house. The baby’s 
father has come too. They stopped at our house 
first, because they wanted to ask some questions 
about — ^about the lady they’ve come to see. Oh, 


DECOI^A TION DA Y 20 / 

Miss Polly dear, please don't look so white and 
queer; you — ^you scare us." 

It was true that Miss Polly had grown very white, 
but there was a wonderful light in her eyes, and she 
held the baby tight. 

“ Where are they ? " she questioned tremulously. 

I think I am beginning to understand, but, oh, my 
dears, how ” 

Miss Polly did not finish her sentence, for at that 
moment Dulcie — who had been standing by the door 
— suddenly threw it open. 

‘‘ It's all right, Mr. Oliver," she cried. ‘‘ Miss 
Polly has guessed who you are, and she loves the 
baby." And without waiting for anything more, 
she darted away, closely followed by Daisy. 

Maggie was waiting for them in the lower hall, 
ready to ask innumerable questions, but she waited 
in vain, and when, at the end of half an hour, she 
ventured up-stairs, to listen outside Miss Polly's 
door, there was no sound of children's voices to be 
heard. There were other voices, though; Miss 
Polly's with a ring of gladness in it that Maggie had 
never heard before, and her brother's, low and full 
of tenderness. The pretty sister-in-law spoke, too, 
and once the baby crowed, but where were the chil- 
dren ? Maggie was so puzzled that at last she could 
not endure the suspense any longer, and knocked 
softly at the closed door. 

“ Excuse me. Miss Polly," she apologized, when 


208 four girls of forty years ago 


Mr. Oliver had opened the door, ‘‘ but can you tell 
me where the little girls from next door are 1 *” 

'' They must have gone home,’' Miss Polly an- 
swered. “ They left here some time ago.” 

They never came down-stairs,” Maggie ob- 
jected. “ I’ve been waiting in the front hall all the 
time. I think they must be hiding somewhere.” 

Miss Polly laughed her old merry laugh, that no- 
body in the boarding-house had heard in months. 

“ They are not hiding,” she said. “ They have 
probably gone home through the mysterious door in 
the wall.” 

Dulcie and Daisy were very happy as they made 
their way, for the last time, through the familiar 
housemaid’s closet, to their own trunk-room, but 
their troubles were not yet over. In the excitement 
of the moment they had quite forgotten the impor- 
tant fact that Mary was cleaning the nursery. Now 
it happened that at the very moment when the two 
little figures emerged from the trunk-room, Mary 
had gone out into the hall, and the sight that met her 
eyes was so astonishing that, as she afterwards ex- 
pressed it to Bridget, ‘‘ she nearly dropped down 
stone dead on the spot.” Explanations followed, 
and Mary was made acquainted with the famous 
door in the wall. 

“Grandpa had it cut through when his brother 
lived here,” Dulcie explained. “ They were both 
writers, and they had their studies up here on the 


DECORA TION DA Y 


20 ^ 


top floor. The door was so they could go from one 
study to the other without having to go down-stairs. 
We’ve known about it for a long time, but we 
couldn’t tell, because we were afraid Grandma would 
fasten it, and then we couldn’t go to see poor Miss 
Polly. But now we don’t care whether Grandma 
fastens the door or not, because of course Miss 
Polly’s brother will take her home with him, and we 
won’t want to go in next door any more.” 

Mary looked down thoughtfully at the two 
flushed little faces. 

“ If Mrs. Winslow finds out there’ll be a fuss,” 
she remarked. “ Maybe I can fasten the door my- 
self ; I see there’s a bolt.” 

“You mean you won’t tell Grandma?” cried 
Dulcie, scarcely able to believe in their good fortune. 

Mary did not answer, but going to the door, she 
seized the heavy bolt, and with one turn of her 
strong fingers, fastened it securely. 

“ There,” she said, “ I guess that’s safe enough. 
Nobody can get in here from the other side, anyway. 
I can’t see there’s any call to say any more about it. 
I’ve heard of that poor lady next door, and I guess 
it’s a good thing you went to cheer her up once in 
a while. I’m glad her brother’s come to look after 
her.” 

So Grandma was not told of the door that had 
remained unfastened for so many years, and when 
Molly and Maud returned, they were regaled with 


210 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


such a wonderfully exciting story of the morning^s 
happenings, as fairly took away their breath, and 
caused them to almost forget to describe the parade. 

“ It’s just exactly like a book thing,” Molly de- 
clared, “ breaking the news to Miss Polly and all, 
but I wish you hadn’t run away so quick. It would 
be so interesting to know what they all did.” 

Daisy blushed. 

“We couldn’t have stayed,” she said. “ It was 
all so sort of solemn, you know, and beautiful. Per- 
haps we can go in again this afternoon — not through 
the door in the wall, that’s bolted — but when we are 
out for our walk. We can find out how Miss Polly 
is then, and you must see that adorable baby.” 

When the four little girls presented themselves at 
the invalid’s door that afternoon, they found a very 
different Miss Polly from the one they had left a 
few hours earlier. There was a bright color in her 
cheeks, and a light in the eyes that had looked so 
sad and wistful of late. Miss Polly was alone, for 
her brother and sister-in-law had gone away to the 
hotel, where they were to pass the night. 

“ Tom is coming to see me again this evening,” 
she told them, and in her voice was a ring of won- 
derful new happiness. “ Oh, children, I can’t help 
feeling as if it must be a dream, and that I shall 
wake up after a while. I have dreamed of this be- 
fore, but I never believed it would come true.” 

“ Then — ^then you’re not very angry,” whispered 


DECORATION DAY 


2II 


Daisy, nestling close to her friend. “ I was so 
afraid you would never forgive me for writing that 
letter. Dulcie and Molly thought I ought not to 
have done it, but, oh, Miss Polly dear, I couldn’t 
help it. You were so unhappy that day, and you 
said it was your pride, and — and ” 

‘‘ My dear little girl,” interrupted Miss Polly, put- 
ting her arm round her tenderly, “ I couldn’t pos- 
sibly be angry with any one to-day, much less with 
some one who has been the means of bringing me 
this great joy. I would not advise you to make a 
practice of trying to arrange your friends’ affairs, 
but in this case it has turned out all right.” 

Daisy grew scarlet, and hid her burning face on 
Miss Polly’s shoulder. 

I’ll never do such a thing again,” she promised. 
“ Oh, Miss Polly, I’ve been so worried ever since I 
wrote that letter. It was such a relief when your 
brother came, and I knew he wasn’t going to be 
angry.” 

“ No, dear, he wasn’t angry,” Miss Polly an- 
swered softly. “ It is all very wonderful. Think 
of it, children, Tom and Helen really want me to 
come and live with them. Helen came all the way 
from Chicago with Tom, to tell me herself how 
much she wanted me. Tom can’t be away long, so 
we are starting the day after to-morrow. Miss 
Collins will be back to-night, and I know she will 
understand, and be glad.” 


212 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

Dulcie sighed. 

‘‘ We shall miss you very much,” she said, “ but 
we can write to each other, and it will be lovely to 
think of you in that pretty little house you used to 
tell us about. Papa is coming home soon, and he 
says we are to have a home of our own, just as we 
had before Mamma died, so perhaps we won^t be 
here next winter either.” 

‘‘ I am so glad,” said Miss Polly. “ I shall never 
forget my dear little neighbors, and all they did to 
make me happy.” She laid her hand lovingly on 
Daisy’s head as she spoke. 

Grandma never found out about the door,” said 
Molly, ‘‘ and now it’s bolted, so nobody can use it 
any more. We wrote Papa about it, but we haven’t 
had any answer yet ; it takes such a long time for a 
letter to come from China. Miss Leslie thought it 
was all right, though. I wish you could know Miss 
Leslie, she’s so sweet and dear. We tell her about 
everything, and she answers all our letters. We 
hope she’s going to marry Uncle Stephen, but we’re 
not sure. Dulcie’s written to ask him, but he hasn’t 
answered yet.” 

Miss Polly smiled. 

You all seem very fond of writing letters,” she 
said. “ I hope you will write to me often, for I 
shall be interested in everything you do.” 

“ I think this has been one of the happiest days 
we ever had,” remarked Dulcie, that evening. 


DECORA TION DAY 2 1 3 

when they were all in the nursery, preparing for 
bed. 

'' It's been lovely," agreed Daisy, “ but there's 
going to be a happier one still, and that will be the 
day Papa comes home. I wish we could tell Lizzie 
about everything, she'd be so interested, and per- 
haps we shall see her when we go to the country, 
for Mary says her husband keeps the grocery store 
at Glen wood, and that's only five miles from us." 

“And just think. Grandma and Aunt Kate never 
even heard of Miss Polly," reflected Molly. “ They 
might be just as happy as we are to-night, if they 
only took a little interest in other things besides 
missionaries." 


CHAPTER XIV 


MRS. WINSLOW GETS A TELEGRAM 

I T was a glorious morning towards the end of 
June, and the four little Winslows were com- 
fortably established under the big apple-tree. 
The Winslow Homestead was on the banks of the 
Hudson, and from where they sat, the children could 
watch the boats on the river, and even hear the 
sound of the paddles, as the big excursion steamers 
plied their busy way between New York and Albany. 
They could look across to the opposite shore, where 
the Palisades rose in forms like castles, from the 
very brink of the river. It was a beautiful view, 
and the children loved it, as their father had loved 
it before them. The place had been in the Winslow 
family for three generations, and old Dr. Winslow 
himself had climbed that very apple-tree when a 
boy, and brought down many a shower of half-ripe 
apples for his younger brothers and sisters. Dulcie 
and Daisy had never wearied of their father’s stories 
of his boyhood at the old homestead on the Hudson, 
and the two weeks since the family had left the city 
had been very pleasant ones. 

214 


MRS. WINSLOW GETS A TELEGRAM 21$ 


“ I don’t know why it is, but Grandma always 
seems rather nicer in summer than she does in win- 
ter,” Molly had remarked only that morning. She 
doesn’t scold half so much, and she lets us do pretty 
nearly everything we want to.” 

“ I think it’s because there’s so much more room,” 
Dulcie decided. “We are not so much in her way. 
I think the less Grandma sees of us, the better she 
likes us.” 

“ Perhaps it’s because Papa’s coming home soon, 
and she knows she isn’t going to have us much 
longer,” Daisy suggested. “ She says I may help 
pack the next missionary box. I love to see what 
they send to the missionaries, only I wish some of 
the ladies wouldn’t send quite such shabby things. 
I don’t see how any missionary could possibly use 
them.” 

But at this particular moment the little girls were 
not thinking of Grandma or of missionaries either, 
for Dulcie was reading “A Peep Behind the Scenes ” 
aloud, and for the past hour they had all been com- 
pletely absorbed in the story. 

“ It’s very sad,” remarked Dulcie, pausing at the 
conclusion of a chapter to wipe her eyes. “ I wish 
something horrid would happen to that stepmother, 
and Rosalie would hurry and find her Aunt Lucy.” 

“ Stepmothers must be awful,” said Molly, glanc- 
ing up from the tea-cozy she was crocheting. “Al- 
most every one we’ve read about is cruel.” 


2 i 6 four girls of FORTY YEARS AGO 

** They are all cruel,” announced Dulcie, in a tone 
of conviction. Let's look at your book-mark, 
Maud. Oh, you are getting all the stitches crooked. 
Give it to me, and let me straighten it out for 
you.” 

Maud relinquished her work quite readily, and 
threw herself back in the soft grass. 

It's the first one I ever made,” she said. I 
don't believe Miss Leslie will mind even if it is just 
a little bit crooked. It's a wedding present, any- 
how, and people ought not to criticize presents.” 

Your tea-cozy is going to be lovely,” said Daisy, 
regarding Molly's work admiringly. “ I'm afraid 
my pincushion won’t be half as pretty.” 

'' Oh, yes, it will,” Molly assured her. “ Lizzie 
always said you sewed better than any of us. I'm 
sure Miss Leslie will love your cushion, and Uncle 
Stephen, too. Don’t you want one of us to read, 
Dulcie, while you work on your tidy ? ” 

Dulcie hesitated. 

I think I’d rather go on reading,” she said. “ I 
can read faster than the rest of you, and it's so in- 
teresting about Rosalie and her stepmother. There 
really isn't any hurry about finishing our presents. 
We don't even know when the wedding is to be.” 

“ I wish Uncle Stephen had told us more about 
it,” said Daisy. “ It Would be so interesting to 
think of them on their wedding day, but he only 
said he was sure Miss Leslie would like some wed- 


MJ^S. WINSLOW GETS A TELEGRAM 21 / 


ding presents, and we could give them to her when 
we saw her. He didn't even say he was going to 
marry her himself." 

“ Of course he is, though," said Dukie, or else 
he would have told us we were mistaken. Perhaps 
they are coming east on their wedding trip. Won’t 
it be nice to see them again, and to be able to call 
Miss Leslie 'Aunt Florence ’ ? I don’t believe 
Grandma will ask them here for a visit, but perhaps 
they’ll have us come and spend the day at the Fifth 
Avenue Hotel. I guess Grandma would let us if 
Uncle Stephen came for us. It’s only an hour on 
the train." 

" It would be so lovely that I don’t believe it will 
ever happen," said Dulcie, sceptically. " I’m very 
sorry, Maudie, but I’m afraid I shall have to rip this 
all out and start over again." 

" I don’t mind," said Maud, with unrtfffled com- 
posure. " I think perhaps Miss Leslie would like it 
just as much if I wrote a nice piece of poetry for 
her wedding present." 

This suggestion was greeted by a peal of laughter 
from the other three, but Maud remained quite 
grave. 

" I made up one this morning in bed," she said. 
" I think it’s rather pretty." 

" Let’s hear it," said Dulcie, and Maud, nothing 
loth, sat up on the grass and began to recite in a very 
sing-song tone: 


2i8 four girls of forty years ago 


Oh, the little birds are singing. 

Oh, the little flowers are blooming. 

Oh, the little calves are happy. 

Oh, the little 

I can’t remember the rest, but don’t you think it’s 
nice poetry ? ” 

“ It isn’t bad, considering your age,” said Dulcie, 
indulgently, and Molly added, with real admiration : 

It doesn’t exactly rhyme, but it sounds a little 
like ‘ Hiawatha.’ ” 

“ I think I shall be a poet like Mr. Longfellow 
when I grow up,” announced Maud, and all my 
poems will be about the country, because I love it so 
much. Miss Polly loves the country, too. Her 
letter made me feel so nice and comfortable in- 
side.” 

'' It’s lovely to think of Miss Polly being so 
happy,” said Daisy. “ I can’t ever feel sorry I 
wrote that letter to her brother, though I don’t be- 
lieve I should ever dare do such a thing again.” 

“ I’m so glad it’s only June,” reflected Molly, 
“ and we can stay here till September. It’s so much 
pleasanter than being in New York, especially now 
that Miss Polly’s gone away.” 

I should like to be going to Europe with Aunt 
Julia and Paul,” said Dulcie. ** It must be wonder- 
ful to see different countries, and all the places 
you’ve read about in history.” 

Paul doesn’t care about that part of it,” said 


MRS. WINSLOIV GETS A TELEGRAM 2ig 

Molly, and taking from her pocket a crumpled 
letter, she read aloud: 

‘‘ It will be fun on the ship, and Father says I can 
go to the zoo in London, but Mother says travelling 
all summer will be as good as studying history, and 
I always hated history worse than all the other 
lessons, so I don't believe I shall like Europe much, 
and I wish we were going to Nahant instead.” 

“ People don't always appreciate their advantages, 
as Miss Hammond says,” quoted Dulcie. If I 
were in Paul's place, I should want to see every 
single thing I possibly could. Oh, here comes the 
telegraph boy. I wonder what's happened.” 

Dulcie's tone had changed to one of excitement, 
not unmixed with anxiety. The arrival of a tele- 
gram was rather an unusual event in the Winslow 
family, and Dulcie and Maud both sprang to their 
feet, and ran to meet the small boy from the village, 
who was seen crossing the lawn, with a yellow 
envelope in his hand. 

“ It's for Grandma,” announced Dulcie, when she 
had taken the envelope from the messenger. ‘‘ I'll 
take it in to her. The boy says there's ten cents to 
collect.” 

Mrs. Winslow was in the kitchen, superintending 
the putting up of strawberry jam. She was in 
the midst of delivering a lecture to Bridget when 
Dulcie, flushed and panting, appeared in the door- 
way. 


220 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


‘‘A telegram for you, Grandma,'' she said, “ and 
the boy says there's ten cents to collect." 

Grandma turned a trifle pale as she held out her 
hand for the envelope. Her thoughts instantly flew 
to a possible accident in the Chester family, or to 
her daughter Kate, who had gone away for a week's 
visit to a friend. But her manner was apparently 
as composed as usual, as she took out her purse, and 
counted the change. 

“ He will have to change a quarter," she said. 

Dulcie hurried away, glad of the excuse to return 
with the change, and possibly learn the contents of 
the telegram. There was a strong probability that 
she would not be told, however, for Grandma and 
Aunt Kate were always silent about their affairs. 
She paid the messenger, received the correct change, 
and was on her way back to the kitchen, when she 
encountered her three younger sisters. 

‘‘ It was so exciting, we couldn't wait any longer," 
Molly explained. What did Grandma say when 
she opened it ? " 

She hadn't opened it when she sent me away," 
said Dulcie, ‘'but I've got to go back with the 
change, and perhaps she'll tell me." 

“ We'll come with you," said Daisy, “ but we'll 
wait outside, so as not to seem too curious. If 
Grandma thought we were curious she wouldn't tell 
us anything." 

Accordingly, only Dulcie entered the kitchen. 


MRS, WINSLOW GETS A TELEGRAM 221 


while the other three remained discretely in the 
background. Mrs. Winslow had evidently read her 
message, for the telegram was nowhere to be seen, 
and she was talking to Bridget, who looked as if 
she had heard something interesting. At Dulcie’s 
entrance, however. Grandma broke off abruptly in 
the middle of a sentence. 

“ Here’s the change. Grandma,” said the little 
girl, “ and — and I hope it isn’t any bad news.” 

“ No,” said Mrs. Winslow, with a rather grim 
smile ; “ I don’t imagine you will consider it bad 
news. The telegram was from your father, and it 
was sent from Chicago. I have known for some 
time that he was on his way home, but thought best 
not to tell you sooner. You children get so excited 
over things, and you know how much I dislike a 
fuss.” 

“ I’m rather glad Grandma didn’t tell us sooner,” 
remarked Dulcie, with a happy laugh. “ I really 
don’t see how we could have lived if we had known 
Papa was on his way home, and not know how soon 
he would get here. Oh, girls, isn’t it the most glori- 
ous thing that ever happened ? ” 

It was afternoon, and the four little sisters were 
once more in their favorite place, under the big 
apple-tree. The first excitement of Grandma’s won- 
derful news had, in a measure, subsided, but for the 
first few hours it had really seemed quite impossible 
to keep still, and at last Grandma, in despair, had 


222 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


gone out to call on a neighbor, declaring that so 
much talking was more than she could endure. But 
in spite of her sharp words, Mrs. Winslow had not 
looked altogether displeased. 

I think she is a little happy herself,'’ Daisy said, 
as the tall erect figure of the old lady passed out of 
the gate. “ Of course when Papa comes she won’t 
have to keep us any longer, and that will be a great 
relief.” 

“ I don’t think we’ve been such a terrible trouble 
to her,” said Molly, a little indignantly ; we’ve tried 
to be pretty good.” 

“ Yes, I know,” said Daisy, but then, you see, 
Grandma doesn’t care much about children, and we 
are only steps. If it had been Paul it might be 
different.” 

'' Oh, I’m so glad we’re not going to be steps any 
longer,” cried Dulcie, with shining eyes. Think 
of having a little home all by ourselves with Papa. 
I’m so happy I don’t know whether I want to laugh 
or cry.” 

Do you suppose Papa will let you keep house? ” 
inquired Molly. You’re twelve.” 

“ He might,” admitted Dulcie, with becoming 
modesty. I think I could, but I shouldn’t scold 
the servants as much as Grandma does. I wonder 
where our home will be.” 

“ I hope it will be in the country,” said Maud. 

Maybe I can have rabbits.” 


MRS, IVINSLOW GETS A TELEGRAM 22$ 


I don't care where it is," said Daisy ; I don't 
care about anything but seeing Papa. I suppose he 
didn't tell us he was coming so soon because he 
wanted it to be a surprise." 

“ Of course that was the reason," agreed Dulcie, 
confidently. “ It would have been a surprise, too, 
if we hadn't happened to take in the telegram. I 
don't believe Grandma would have told us anything, 
but then we wouldn't have had the pleasure of antici- 
pating. I think to anticipate something pleasant is 
one of the nicest things, if you don't have to wait 
too long." 

“ The telegram was from Chicago," said Daisy. 
“ Grandma says Papa may get here to-mor- 
row." 

** I'm hungry," announced Maud, somewhat ir- 
relevantly. “ I was so excited about Papa's coming 
home I couldn’t eat any dinner. I don't see how I 
can possibly wait till tea-time." 

I think we are all a little hungry," said Dulcie. 
“ I know I was too excited to eat much dinner. 
Grandma doesn't like to have us eat between meals, 
but I don't believe she'd mind our having a little 
bread and butter to-day." 

Go and ask Bridget for some,” urged Molly. 

She generally gives you what you ask for, and 
she's called you Miss Dulcie since you were 
twelve." 

“Ask her to put some brown sugar on it,” charged 


224 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

Maud, as Dulcie rose, and walked away in the direc- 
tion of the house. 

As she approached the back premises, Dulcie 
noticed that a horse and buggy were standing out- 
side the kitchen door. The buggy was empty, and 
the horse was fastened to the hitching-post. It was 
also evident from the sound of voices in the kitchen 
that Bridget was entertaining visitors. Dulcie 
paused a moment before going in, and as she did 
so, some words fell upon her ears, which set her 
heart beating so fast that she could scarcely 
breathe. 

It was the madam herself told me,'’ Bridget was 
saying. “ She read out the message, and then she 
says, ‘ the children don’t know a thing about it,’ she 
says, ‘and he wants it kept from them till he can tell 
them himself.^ ” 

“It’s just too awful, that’s what it is!” cried 
another voice. “ I never thought he’d do it, him 
such a nice, kind gentleman, and so fond of the 
first one, too. Oh, the poor lambs ; the poor 
lambs ! ” 

Dulcie knew that voice, although it was many 
months since she had heard it last. Impulsively she 
hurried forward, regardless of the fact that there 
were several persons in the kitchen, including a 
strange young man, with freckles, and very red hair, 
and in another moment her arms were round the 
neck of a stout, pleasant- faced young woman, and 


M/^S. WINSLOW GETS A TELEGRAM 225 


she was hugging her tight, and laughing and crying 
both together. 

The young woman returned Dulcie’s embrace 
heartily, and at the same time began to cry. 

'' Oh, my precious ! ” she cried, I couldn't keep 
away another minute, I just couldn't. I heard you'd 
moved up for the summer, and I said to Michael — 
that's my husband, dear — I said ' you've got to drive 
me over to the old place this afternoon. I've got to 
see those precious children,' I said. I didn't think 
your grandma'd have any objections, seeing as I'm 
married, and couldn't come back even if she'd have 
me, but O dear, O dear ! I never thought to hear such 
dreadful news." And the young woman — who was 
a very emotional person — began to sob more vio- 
lently than ever. 

“ But there isn't any dreadful news, Lizzie ; I 
don't know what you mean," faltered Dulcie, who 
was still clinging round her old nurse's neck. 

Papa is coming home. Grandma had a telegram 
from him this morning, and he may be home to- 
morrow." 

Yes, yes, my darling, I know all about it, but 
how is he coming home, that's the question ? How 
is he coming home to the dear little trusting chil- 
dren who love him so much ? " 

‘‘ Lizzie, what is it ? " cried Dulcie, in sudden 
terror ; has something terrible happened to Papa, 
that we don't know about ? Is he ill ? ” 


226 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


No, no, dearie, he's well enough, I guess, but — 
do stop making signs to me, Bridget; there's no 
reason why she shouldn't be told. They've all got 
to know soon." 

“Know what?" questioned Dulcie, gazing with 
big frightened eyes from one face to another. 
“ Something has happened to Papa, I know it has, 
and nobody will tell us. Oh ! oh ! " And Dulcie 
burst into tears, and hid her face on Lizzie's 
shoulder. 

“There, there. Miss Dulcie, don't take on so," 
soothed Bridget. “ Nothing so very bad has hap- 
pened. Lizzie always makes a fuss over things. 
She don't know what she's saying." 

“ I don’t, don’t I ? ” retorted the indignant Lizzie, 
“ and who should know better. I’d like to ask ? 
Didn’t I have one myself, and isn’t that the reason 
I ran away from home at sixteen, and have been 
working for my living ever since ? I guess if any- 
body in this world knows about stepmothers I do.” 

“ Stepmothers! " repeated Dulcie, lifting her face, 
from which the color had suddenly faded. “ Lizzie, 
is somebody going to have a stepmother ? ” 

“ You are, my lamb," sobbed Lizzie, and the 
words were accompanied by a convulsive hug. 
“ Your papa is bringing her home to you. He was 
married in California last week. Your grandma's 
known it was going to happen ever since last winter, 
but it was your papa's wish you shouldn't be told 


MRS. WINSLOW GETS A TELEGRAM 22 / 

till he came home and told you himself. Oh, my 
poor baby, don^t cry so, don’t now. It’s an awful 
thing, I know, and my heart’s just breaking for you 
all, but it can’t be helped, and you’ve got to make 
the best of it.” 


CHAPTER XV 


D 


DULCIE TAKES THE HELM 

^ AISY, are you asleep ? 

No,” said Daisy, in a smothered 
voice, lifting a flushed, tear-wet face 
from the pillow. “ Fve tried and tried, but my eyes 
won’t stay shut. I thought you might be asleep, 
though, so I kept as quiet as I could.” 

Dulcie sighed, and slipped an arm round her 
sister. 

I can’t go to sleep either,” she whispered ; “ I 
don’t believe I’ve been asleep at all. I’ve been think- 
ing and thinking, till it seemed as if my head would 
just burst. I’m so glad you’re awake, for I must 
talk to somebody. We must whisper, though, so as 
not to wake Molly and Maud.” 

'' I think it must be the middle of the night,” 
whispered Daisy. ‘‘ It seems ages since I heard 
Grandma lock her door. Oh, Dulcie, hasn’t it been 
a dreadful day? I’ve been thinking about step- 
mothers ever since I went to bed. Do you suppose 
real ones are all as dreadful as the ones in books ? ” , 
I’m afraid they are,” sighed Dulcie. They 
may not all be wicked. Grandma isn’t wicked, but 
228 


DULCIE TAKES THE HELM 


229 


I don't believe she ever made Papa very happy when 
he was a little boy. I don’t believe Papa would 
marry a lady who was really cruel, but even if she 
isn’t, she won’t want us. We shall be the same 
bother to her we’ve been to Grandma. That’s the 
dreadful part of it. Oh, how could Papa have done 
it ? He knew we would always stay with him, and 
take care of him.” Dulcie’s voice broke in a 
sudden sob. 

It had, indeed, been a very sad evening for the 
four little girls. They had spent it alone, for 
Grandma had not come home to tea. She had sent 
a note to say the children were not to wait for her, 
as she had accepted the invitation of a neighbor to 
remain to supper, and go to hear a distinguished 
speaker at the town hall. As for Lizzie, chief cause 
of all the trouble, she had been driven home by her 
husband, a very sad and depressed Lizzie, for every 
one had blamed her for telling the children a piece 
of news which Mrs. Winslow had strictly forbidden 
every member of the household to mention. So the 
children had sat on the piazza in the twilight, after 
tea, Molly and Maud with their heads on their elder 
sisters’ laps, and nobody had talked much. There 
really did not seem anything to say, and it had been 
a relief to them all when bedtime came. They had 
undressed in the same quiet, subdued way, and Molly 
and Maud had soon forgotten their troubles in 
sleep. 


230 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


Dulcie cried softly into the pillow for a few min- 
utes, while Daisy soothed and comforted her as best 
she couid, both of them still mindful of their sleep- 
ing sisters in the other bed, for, as in the city, the 
four little girls shared the same room. Then Dulcie 
pulled herself together again, and began to talk. 

IVe been thinking of it for hours and hours,’* 
she whispered, “ and I’ve made up my mind we’ve 
got to do something.” 

Daisy gasped. 

“ There isn’t anything we can do,” she protested. 
“ We’ve just got to make the best of it. I’ve been 
praying a lot, Dulcie dear, and I think perhaps God 
won’t let the stepmother be so very dreadful, after 
all. There may be some nice stepmothers, you 
know, even if we’ve never heard of them.” 

“ But there is something we can do,” said Dulcie, 
not without a touch of pride in her tone. ‘‘ I’ve 
thought of it. You see, it isn’t as if we were all 
little as we were when Mamma died. Then, of 
course, we couldn’t do anything for ourselves, and 
Papa had to bring us to Grandma, but now you and 
I are old enough to earn our living, and even Molly 
could work — wash dishes, you know, and shell peas, 
and little things like that. Between the three of us 
we ought to be able to earn enough to take care of 
Maud.” 

** Earn our own living ! ” repeated Daisy, in- 
credulously. ‘‘ Why, Dulcie, how could we ? Papa 


DULCIE TAKES THE HELM 231 

wouldn’t let us, or Grandma either. Grandma 
would say we had disgraced the family, the same as 
she did when that cousin of hers went away to be 
an actress.” 

Dulcie sniffed scornfully. 

We can’t help what Grandma says,” she said. 
‘‘ Papa won’t think we are a disgrace to the family. 
Besides, it will all have to happen before he gets 
home. He may not like it just at first, but I don’t 
believe he’ll really mind much, because, of course, 
it will make the stepmother happy not to have any 
burdens.” 

** But — but,” faltered Daisy, “ Papa is coming 
home to-morrow. How can it possibly happen be- 
fore that ? ” 

'' Because it’s got to,” said Dulcie, firmly. “ I’ve 
thought it all out, lying here, and it’s really quite a 
wonderful plan. Now listen, and don’t interrupt till 
I get through. We won’t tell the others anything 
till morning, but we’ll have to get up very early, so 
as to be away before anybody else is awake. We’ll 
dress very quietly, and just slip out of the house 
without anybody’s knowing a thing about it. 
There’s an old leather bag in the storeroom that I 
don’t believe Grandma would mind our taking, and 
we can put a few things in it — just necessary things, 
you know, like combs and tooth-brushes, and a set 
of clean clothes for each of us. We’ll walk to the 
station, and take the first train going up the river. 


232 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


Isn't it wonderful that Uncle Stephen should have 
sent us that five dollars for the Fourth of July? I 
thought we could keep it to buy real birthday pres- 
ents for Molly and Maud, but we’ll have to spend it 
this way. We’ll buy four tickets for Peak’s Point. 
It’s twenty miles off, and nobody knows us there. 
Papa took me there once on the boat, and I remem- 
ber it was quite a big place, and there were some 
lovely houses. We’ll stop at the first house we like 
the looks of, and ring the door-bell and ask for 
work. Of course they may not want us at the first 
one, but we’ll keep right on asking till we find some 
one who wants some little girls to help with the 
housework. People often do take little girls, you 
know. You remember the girl who used to take the 
Van Arsdale baby out; I’m sure she wasn’t much 
older than I am. We won’t give our real names; 
people in books never give their real names when 
they run away from home. Don’t you think it’s a 
wonderful plan? ” 

No, I don’t,” declared Daisy. I think it’s the 
most awful thing I ever heard of in my life. I’m 
sure Papa would be very angry. It would be dread- 
ful not to be here when he gets home to-morrow.” 

Dulcie caught her breath in a quickly suppressed 
sob. 

** I know it,” she choked, and I feel dreadfully 
about it, but it can’t be helped. It isn’t as if Papa 
were coming alone, you know; the stepmother will 


DULCIE TAKES THE HELM 


233 


be here, too. I promised Mamma to take care of 
you all, and Tve always known a stepmother was 
the very worst kind of a ‘ step ’ there was. Besides, 
when Papa finds out we’re supporting ourselves, and 
making money, I think he’ll be rather proud of us. 
We’ll leave a note, of course — people in books al- 
ways leave notes — and when we are settled, we’ll let 
people know where we are. We’ve got to do some- 
thing, Daisy, we really have. We can’t go on being 
burdens, and incum — I can’t remember the rest of 
the word, but you know what Paul told us he 
heard his mother say we were. It’s a dreadful thing 
to feel you are a burden, and I just can’t bear it any 
longer.” And Dulcie burst into such a passionate 
fit of crying that poor, trembling Daisy was at her 
wits’ end to comfort her. 

It was a long time before either child closed her 
eyes that night. They talked in whispers, or rather 
Dulcie talked, for it was she who made all the plans, 
while Daisy merely listened, and murmured faint, 
frightened little protests. The whole scheme ap- 
peared to her so utterly preposterous and impossible 
that at first she thought Dulcie was making up one 
of her famous stories, but Dulcie’s was the stronger 
nature of the two, and in the end she had her way, 
as she generally did with her younger sisters. But 
poor little Daisy’s heart was very heavy. Long 
after Dulcie had fallen asleep, worn out by excite- 
ment, she lay with wide open eyes, staring into the 


234 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

darkness, until tears would not be kept back any 
longer, and then she cried herself to sleep. 

Almost as soon as the first streaks of sunlight had 
made their way through the closed blinds, and while 
the birds were still singing their morning chorus, 
Dulcie was wide awake again, ready for the day’s 
work. She lay still for a few minutes, listening to 
the breathing of her sleeping sisters, and then rose 
softly, and seating herself at the desk, began to 
write. She wrote steadily for the next ten minutes, 
and then paused, arrested by a slight rustle from the 
bed she had left. Daisy was sitting up, watching 
her anxiously, her blue eyes full of trouble. 

“What are you doing?” she inquired, in a 
tremulous whisper. 

“ Writing that letter to Papa,” Dulcie answered. 
“ I’m just finishing. You can read what I’ve 
written, if you want to. I think it’s rather nice.” 

Daisy slipped out of bed and tiptoed softly across 
the room to her sister’s side. Leaning over Dulcie’s 
shoulder, she read: 

“ Darling, precious Papa: 

“ You will find this letter when you come, 
and it will explain why we are not here to welcome 
you. We are terribly, terribly sorry not to be here, 
but if we waited to tell you our plan, we are afraid 
perhaps you would not let us go away at all. Oh, 
dear Papa, please don’t be angry with us. I am sure 
you wouldn’t be if you knew how very unhappy we 
ar'E. We don’t blame you for marrying the step- 


DULCIE TAKES THE HELM 


235 


mother, because Daisy says you may have been very 
lonely. We hope you will be very happy, but we 
don’t want to stay and be burdens. It was bad 
enough to be burdens to Grandma, but it would be 
much worse to be them to a stepmother. So we are 
going away to earn our living. Daisy and I can both 
sweep and dust very well, and Daisy can cook a little. 
She made some very nice cookies the other day; 
even Grandma said they might have been worse. 
Molly can wash dishes, and wheel a baby carriage, 
and once she helped Mary clean silver, so I am sure 
she will soon learn to be useful. Maud is too little to 
work, but we can earn money enough to take care 
of her. We will send you our address just as soon 
as we are settled, and will you please tell Grandma 
not to worry about the bag. We had to take it to 
carry some things in, but we will send it back by 
express just as soon as we can. 

“ Good-bye, darling Papa. We all love you more 
than we can possibly say, and we hope you and the 
stepmother will be very happy. If you should be a 
little angry at first, and disappointed not to find us 
here, please don’t blame any one but me, because it 
was really all my fault. I thought of the whole 
plan, and Daisy didn’t want to do it at all. We 
haven’t told Molly and Maud yet, because it is very 
early, and they are both asleep, but I am going to 
wake them in a few minutes. We must get off 
before Grandma wakes, or she might make a fuss. 

Your own little girl, 

“ Dulcie. 

P. S. — We have plenty of money. Uncle 
Stephen sent it in a letter last week. He said it was 


236 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

for candy and firecrackers for the Fourth, but we 
can live on it till we get some work, so please don’t 
worry about us any more than you can help.” 

“ It’s a beautiful letter,” commended Daisy, wip- 
ing her eyes. “ I don’t see how you always know 
just the right things to say. Perhaps Papa won’t 
be angry when he understands, but it does seem a 
dreadful thing not to be here when he comes.” 
And Daisy choked back a rising sob. 

The next hour was a very busy one for the little 
Winslows. In the first place, Molly and Maud had 
to be awakened, and the wonderful plan explained 
to them. Not an easy task, for at the first mention 
of the fact that they were to go away before their 
father’s arrival both children began to cry, and 
Molly persisted, amid sobs, that nothing — no, 
nothing in the world, not even the cruelest step- 
mother one had ever heard of — would induce her to 
go anywhere before Papa came home.” But again, 
as with Daisy, Dulcie ended in having her own way. 
Indeed, she drew such a terrible picture of step- 
mothers in general that at last Maud was frightened, 
and Molly was forced into a half-hearted consent to 
the plan. Then began the preparations for de- 
parture. They had to be very quiet, for Grandma 
was a light sleeper, but Dulcie crept up-stairs to the 
storeroom, whence she returned with a shabby 
leather travelling-bag, and in due time they were 
ready. 


DULCIE TAKES THE HELM 237 

** Now we must go down-stairs on tiptoe/* com- 
manded Dulcie, who, from the beginning, had taken 
command of the expedition. ‘‘The front door is 
locked, but it*s morning, so there can’t be any harm 
in leaving it unfastened till Mary and Bridget come 
down. They’ll only think we got up early, and 
went for a walk. We did it once last summer, you 
know. Now, is everybody ready?” 

“ Where shall we get our breakfast ? ” Maud in- 
quired, anxiously. 

“We shall have to wait till we get to Peak’s 
Point. There are plenty of stores there, and we 
can buy something at a baker’s. It will be like a 
picnic, you know. O dear ! I didn’t think this bag 
would be so heavy! I’m afraid we’ve taken too 
many things.” 

“ It doesn’t seem as if we were taking much,” said 
Daisy. “ I thought we ought each to have an extra 
dress, but the bag wouldn’t shut when I tried to put 
them in. I really don’t believe we can get on with 
any less, Dulcie ; we’ve got to be clean, you 
know.” 

But Dulcie — ^who had made an attempt to lift 
the heavy valise — shook her head resolutely. 

“We shall have to get on somehow,” she said, and 
promptly began removing the superfluous articles 
her younger sisters had so carefully packed. 

Daisy sighed, but submitted to the inevitable, and 
after taking out some of the heaviest of their posses- 


238 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

sions, Dulcie declared she could easily carry the bag, 
with a little occasional help from the others. They 
were a rather pathetic little procession, as they softly 
opened their door and tiptoed down-stairs. Dulcie 
carried the valise, and each of the other three was 
provided with a package as well. Daisy was carry- 
ing the family Bible, carefully wrapped in paper; 
Molly was entrusted with their mother’s photograph, 
in its gilt frame, and Maud hugged to her bosom her 
favorite rag doll, which no amount of persuasion 
could induce her to leave behind. As they reached 
the lower hall, the big clock on the stairs struck six. 

“ It’s very early,” whispered Molly. '' Do you 
suppose there will be any trains ? ” 

“Of course there will,” Dulcie reassured her; 
“there are always trains. Now, step very softly 
on the piazza. I’m so afraid Grandma may hear 
us and get up to look out of the window.” 

After all, there was nothing very alarming about 
the adventure, and Molly and Maud had not taken 
many steps in the fresh morning air before their 
spirits began to rise. But Daisy cried softly all the 
way to the station, and Dulcie’s face was very stem 
and set. 

“ I think it’s rather fun,” Maud whispered to 
Molly, “ only I wish we could have had our break- 
fast before we started. Just listen to that robin. I 
don’t believe robins ever sing like that after break- 
fast.” 


DULCIE TAKES THE HELM 


239 


Miss Leslie wrote that she loved to go out early 
in the morning and study the birds,” said Molly. 

I can't see what there can be about birds to study, 
but she said it was very interesting.” 

Maud came to a sudden pause. 

We've forgotten Miss Leslie's wedding pres- 
ents,” she exclaimed, in dismay. '' We'll have to go 
back for them.” 

But Dulcie would not hear of going back, even for 
the precious wedding presents, but she promised 
Maud they would write Miss Leslie all about every- 
thing, and she would surely understand. 

“ For you know Miss Leslie is a very understand- 
ing person,” finished Dulcie, “ and I'm sure she 
won't blame us for running away from a step- 
mother, when we've had nothing but steps ever since 
we can remember.” 

It was only a short walk down the hill to the 
station, but when they reached it, they found the 
waiting-room still locked up, and not a human being 
in sight. 

I knew it was too early for trains,” fretted 
Maud. “ Now we'll have to go home again.'' 

“ No, we won't,” declared Dulcie, with assumed 
cheerfulness. “ We'll just wait here till the first 
one comes along.” 

So they all sat down on a bench to wait, and it 
was very still, with nothing but the twittering of the 
birds to disturb the morning silence. 


240 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

For a few minutes nobody spoke, and then Maud 
inquired wonderingly: 

“ What makes it so solemn? It feels like church.” 

** I guess it’s because we’re all feeling rather 
solemn ourselves,” Molly answered. 

Hush,” cried Dulcie, suddenly ; I hear a 
whistle, and it’s coming from the right direction, 
too.” 

They all listened, with bated breath, and soon the 
whistle sounded again, much nearer this time, and 
then came the sound of an approaching train. It 
was an accommodation train, too, not one of the ex- 
presses, which frequently rushed by the little station 
without stopping, and as it pulled up to the plat- 
form, the four little girls rose from their seats. In 
another moment they had all stepped on board. 

** We want four tickets for Peak’s Point,” Dulcie 
told the conductor, who was regarding them curi- 
ously, and she produced her purse, with the air of an 
accustomed traveller. But when she had paid the 
fares and the conductor had given her back the 
change, her face had lost a little of its cheerful con- 
fidence. 

I had no idea it would cost so much,” she told 
Daisy, in an anxious whisper. “ It was almost two 
dollars. That only leaves three to live on till we 
find a situation.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


LOOKING FOR A SITUATION 

I T was nearly half-past seven when the slow 
morning train drew up at the Peak’s Point 
Station and four solemn, rather frightened 
little passengers stepped out upon the platform. 
They were almost the only passengers, and as they 
passed out of the car, both conductor and brakeman 
looked after them curiously. 

“Now I wonder where them young ones can be 
off to at this time of the morning,” the brakeman 
remarked. “ They look as if they were goin’ some- 
where to stay, judgin’ by the parcels they’ve got.” 

“ They paid their fares all right,” the conductor 
answered, “ and the biggest one looked pretty well 
able to take care of herself. She handed me a five- 
dollar bill, and to see her countin’ the change, you’d 
think she’d been used to it all her life. Bright as a 
button she is, and no mistake.” And then the train 
moved on again, and the two men soon forgot the 
episode. 

In the meantime the four little Winslows had left 
the station behind, and were walking up the village 
241 


242 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

street, in quest of a bakery, for by this time they 
were all decidedly hungry. Dulcie was the only one 
of them who had ever been to Peak’s Point before, 
but she assured the others that she remembered the 
place very well, and knew just where the stores 
were. 

“We went to a drug-store,” she said, “ and Papa 
and I had soda-water. It was very good.” 

“ I hope we can get something besides soda-water 
now,” said Molly. “ It’s very nice when you’re hot 
and thirsty, but I don’t think it would be at all the 
thing for breakfast.” 

“ There’s a baker on the other side of the street,” 
cried Maud, joyfully. “ There’s some lovely cake 
in the window. I’m going to have some.” 

“ Oh, Maudie, not cake for breakfast,” remon- 
strated Daisy. “ I never heard of such a thing.” 

But Maud was firm. 

“ I always thought I should like cake for break- 
fast,” she maintained. “ It would be so different, 
you know.” 

Daisy looked grave, but Molly was rather inclined 
to agree with her younger sister. 

“ People do have queer things for breakfast some- 
times,” she reminded them. “ Don’t you remember 
Papa told us about that place in Maine where he 
went fishing, and how they gave him pie and dough- 
nuts every morning at seven o’clock ? He said they 
were rather good when you were hungry.” 


LOOKING FOR A SITUATION 243 

So Daisy’s scruples were silenced, and Dulcie vol- 
unteered to make the necessary purchases. 

“ I don’t believe we’d better all go,” she advised. 
“ People stare so, and I suppose we do look a little 
queer, with all our parcels. I’ll leave the bag here 
on the sidewalk, and you can watch it till I come 
back.” 

Nobody had any objections to offer, so Dulcie de- 
parted on her errand, returning in the course of a 
few minutes with two well-laden paper bags. 

''I bought some rolls,” she announced; ''they’re 
right out of the oven, the woman said, and I’ve got 
some nice fruit cake for Maud. I’m sorry I couldn’t 
get any butter, but the rolls are so fresh, I don’t be- 
lieve we’ll mind eating them dry.” 

But though her voice was cheerful, Dulcie’s face 
was grave and troubled, and when they had found a 
seat on the steps of a church, and the two younger 
children had begun on their impromptu breakfast, 
she drew Daisy aside to whisper anxiously: 

" Things do cost a great deal more than I sup- 
posed they did. We shan’t be able to live long on 
that five dollars of Uncle Stephen’s.” 

" How long do you suppose it will take us to find 
a situation?” inquired Daisy, with an anxiou.*^ 
glance at her two little sisters. 

" Oh, not very long, I don’t believe. Of course^ 
we must find something before to-night. But I’v^ 
been thinking that perhaps it would be better not to 


244 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


eat all these rolls right away. We might get hungry 
again by and by, you know, and it isn’t certain that 
we shall find a situation before lunch time.’’ 

Daisy — most unselfish of sisters — agreed, al- 
though it cost her something of an effort to put her 
second roll back into the paper bag, for, after all, 
dry bread is not a very substantial breakfast. 
Somehow, nobody felt very well satisfied, and even 
Maud admitted that cake really did taste rather 
queer so early in the morning, and she would like 
a glass of milk. 

'' I thought I hated milk when Grandma made me 
drink it,” she admitted, but things taste so funny 
when you have to eat them dry. Let’s buy some 
milk, Dulcie ? ” 

But Dulcie, mindful of the state of their finances, 
shook her head. 

“ Perhaps somebody will give us a drink of 
water,” she said, but I don’t think we’d better buy 
anything more now. Wouldn’t you like to live on a 
farm, Maud? You might learn to milk the cows 
yourself.” 

But this suggestion was not at all to Maud’s taste. 
'' I don’t like cows,” she protested, indignantly ; 

I’m afraid of them. Lizzie said a cow chased her 
once, when she was a little girl, because she had on 
a red dress. She always told us not to go near 
them. Oh, I don’t want to go to a place where 
there are cows.**’ 


LOOKING FOR A SITUATION 245 

Maud — who was beginning to feel both tired and 
cross — suddenly burst into tears. 

“ Oh, Maudie, don’t be silly,” remonstrated 
Dulcie. “ Maybe we won’t go to a farm at all. I 
only thought perhaps farmers might be more likely 
to take little girls to work for them than rich people 
would. You see, rich people generally have other 
servants, and ” 

“ But I don’t want to be a servant,” wailed Maud. 
“ Servants have to eat in the kitchen, and some- 
times they don’t have any dessert. I want to go 
home, even if we are going to have a stepmother. I 
don’t believe stepmothers are as bad as having to 
be servants, and eat in the kitchen.” 

‘‘ Stepmothers are horrid,” declared Molly, with 
conviction. ‘‘ Besides, we don’t want to be burdens 
any longer. Do stop crying, Maud, and let’s begin 
to look for a situation. I think it’s going to be 
rather good fun.” 

Thus urged, Maud — who was really a cheerful 
little soul — choked back a rising sob and dried her 
eyes. Just then the church clock, over their heads, 
boomed forth eight strokes, and Dulcie rose. 

Come along,” she said. “ I don’t think we’ll 
stop at any of these houses. It will be nicer out in 
the country.” 

The others sighed wearily, but made no objec- 
tions. It was the beginning of a very hot day, and 
already the sun felt uncomfortably warm. 


246 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

If we can’t get any milk, I don’t think soda 
water would be so bad, after all,” remarked Molly, 
suddenly. “ Let’s go back to that drug-store.” 
But Daisy — who had decided ideas as to the fitness 
of things — would not listen to this suggestion. 
Cake for breakfast was bad enough, but soda-water 
at eight o’clock in the morning — the thing was un- 
heard of. 

“ It would make us all sick,” she assured them, 
‘‘ and then what could we do? Nobody would take 
sick people to work for them.” 

That argument proved unanswerable, and Molly 
and Maud were forced to submit to remaining 
thirsty for the present. A few minutes’ walk 
brought them to the end of the village street, and 
they turned into a shady, grass-grown road, which 
was much pleasanter. Instinctively the children’s 
spirits began to rise. 

There’s a lovely house,” exclaimed Molly, com- 
ing to a sudden standstill beside some iron gates. 
“ Couldn’t we ask there? ” 

Dulcie hesitated. Truth to tell, now that the 
moment had arrived for putting her wonderful 
scheme into operation, she was beginning to feel de- 
cidedly nervous and uncomfortable. 

'' I think we’d better go a little farther,” she said. 
‘‘ It’s pretty early to disturb people ; they might not 
like it.” 

But ladies are more apt to be at home early in 


LOOKING FOR A SITUATION 247 

the morning/' urged Molly, who was anxious to 
have the adventure begin. Besides, it's getting 
hot, and we're all thirsty. What are you going to 
do about a reference? I've heard Grandma say she 
would never engage a girl who didn't have a good 
reference." 

Dulcie looked a little startled. She had not 
thought of the necessity of references. But just 
then Maud put in an anxious question. 

“ Suppose nobody wants us, and night comes, 
where are we going to sleep ? " 

“ Don't talk about night when it's only just about 
breakfast time," reproved Molly. We'll be sure 
to find a place long before dinner time, and I don't 
believe, when the people know who we are, they'll 
make us eat in the kitchen. I think we shall be kind 
of lady helps, like Phoebe in ‘ Eight Cousins.' 
Phoebe did the cooking, but she had lovely times, 
too, don't you remember ? " 

“ But Dulcie says we mustn't let people know our 
real names," Maud reminded her, “ so I don't see 
how they can find out who we are." 

“ Well, it's going to be fun, anyhow," maintained 
Molly, cheerfully. “ I wouldn't go home again for 
anything, after coming so far, and spending all that 
money, would you, Dulcie ? " 

‘*Of course not," said Dulcie, ‘‘and I suppose, 
after all, we might as well begin with this house as 
any other. But you mustn't be disappointed if we 


248 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


have to try a good many places before we find any 
one who wants us. And — and there’s another 
thing ; I don’t believe we’d better all go in together. 
They might get discouraged if they saw there were 
so many of us.” 

“ But they’ll have to know as soon as they en- 
gage us,” objected Daisy. 

‘‘Of course they will, but they needn’t find out 
the very first minute. I think the best way will be 
for you and me to go first, and then, if the people 
seem kind, and want us to stay, we can explain 
about the others. Molly and Maud can wait for us 
right here, under that big tree. We won’t be gone 
long.” 

Daisy still looked very doubtful, and Maud began 
to object to being left behind, but Dulcie was firm, 
and Molly also proved equal to the occasion. So the 
question was settled, and the two younger children 
comfortably ensconced under a big apple-tree, while 
Dulcie and Daisy walked up the wide gravelled path 
to the house. It was not a large house, but a very 
pretty one. There was a lawn, with flower beds in 
front, and the children caught glimpses of a stable 
and other outbuildings in the rear. There was 
no one to be seen, but as they approached the 
house, the sound of a piano could be distinctly 
heard. 

“ Somebody’s practising exercises,” whispered 
Dulcie. “ Perhaps it’s the lady of the house.” 


LOOKING FOR A SITUATION 


249 


“ There’s a doll’s carriage on the piazza,” said 
Daisy, “ so there must be a little girl.” 

“ I’m glad,” said Dulcie, with a great effort to 
speak cheerfully. '‘If the people have a little girl 
of their own, it may make them kinder to other little 
girls. I’ve been thinking about our names. I don’t 
want to change them any more than I can help; it 
doesn’t seem quite honest. I don’t see how I can 
very well change Dulcie into anything but Delia, but 
you can be Margaret, which is your real name, any- 
how, and Molly can be Mary. I’ll have to decide 
about Maud later, but I think our last name had 
better be Smith. When people in books change 
their names, they nearly always call themselves 
Smith or Brown.” 

Daisy opened her lips to protest, but at that mo- 
ment the sound of the piano ceased, and in another 
moment the front door opened, and a very pretty 
little girl of eight or nine came out onto the piazza. 
She was so pretty that Dulcie and Daisy stopped 
short in the path, and stood gazing at her in un- 
disguised admiration. She had big brown eyes, and 
long golden curls, and she was dressed in white, and 
wore a string of gold beads round her neck. Alto- 
gether, she looked so much like the picture of a little 
princess in one of their fairy books that Dulcie and 
Daisy fairly gasped. 

As for the stranger herself, she did not seem in 
the least surprised, but smiled a bright, welcoming 


250 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

smile, and came running down the steps to greet the 
visitors. 

“ Oh, Fm so glad youVe come,” she cried, joy- 
fully. Mamma said she thought you might come 
to-day, but I didn’t expect you quite so early. It’s 
all right, though ; I’ve finished my practicing. I did 
a whole half hour since breakfast. Mamma says 
that’s quite enough in summer. Won’t you come 
up on the piazza? ” 

To say that the two little Winslows were sur- 
prised at the cordiality of this greeting would be 
but a poor way of expressing their feelings. In- 
deed, they were so much astonished as to be, for the 
first moment, quite deprived of the power of speech. 
Then Dulcie found her voice, and managed to gasp 
out: 

'' You — you were expecting us! ” 

** I wasn’t exactly expecting you,” the stranger 
explained, because your mother didn’t positively 
tell Mamma you would come to-day, but I hoped 
you would, because I don’t know any of the chil- 
dren here yet, and I’m so anxious to have some- 
body to play with.” 

” I think you must be making a mistake about us,” 
said Daisy, who was beginning to grasp the situa- 
tion. “ Who do you think we are? ” 

“ Why, aren’t you the two little Baxter girls ? 
Mrs. Baxter came to call on Mamma yesterday, and 
she said she would send her two little girls over to 


LOOKING FOR A SITUATION 


251 


play with me, so when I saw you, of course I 
thought I knew who you were. It doesn^t really 
make any difference, though, for I’ve never seen the 
Baxters, and I shall probably like you just as much. 
You see. Papa has only taken this house for the 
summer, and we didn’t come till last Monday, so I 
don’t know any of the children who live here. 
What are your names, and which house do you 
live in ? ” 

Daisy was silent, and Dulcie flushed a little as she 
answered. 

'' Our name is Smith. I’m Delia Smith, and this 
is my sister Margaret. We don’t live here, and 
we — we didn’t exactly come to see you. We'd like 
to speak to your mother.” 

The little girl’s face fell. 

I’m very sorry,” she said, ‘‘ I hoped you had 
come to play with me. Mamma has gone to the 
station with Papa, but she won’t be gone very long. 
I hope you can wait.” 

We can wait,” said Dulcie. She had taken 
a fancy to the pretty little girl, and was hoping 
that her mother might prove as friendly as her- 
self. 

The child looked pleased. 

‘‘All right,” she said, hospitably, “and while 
you’re waiting, perhaps you’d like to come and see 
the rabbits. They’re very cunning, and it’s about 
time I gave them their breakfast.” 


252 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

The prospect of feeding rabbits was very alluring, 
but Dulcie was mindful of the importance of main- 
taining her dignity. People looking for situations 
ought not to waste their time on anything so trivial 
as rabbits. 

“ I think perhaps we’d better wait here,” she said. 
Do you happen to know whether your mother 
needs any help ? ” 

“ Help,” repeated the little girl, rather vaguely, 
what kind of help ? ” 

“ Oh, help in the house, or — or in the garden. 
Any kind that little girls could do. I thought she 
might want some one to wash the dishes, or make 
the beds, or ” 

Oh, you mean a maid,” interrupted her new ac- 
quaintance, with sudden comprehension. ‘‘ No, I’m 
sure Mamma doesn’t need any one. I heard her 
tell Papa all the servants were very satisfactory. 
What made you want to know ? ” 

Because we — oh, it doesn’t matter. I’m afraid 
there isn’t any use of our waiting to see your mother, 
after all.” 

‘‘ Oh, please don’t go so soon,” pleaded the little 
girl, clasping her hands imploringly. “ You’ve only 
just come, and I do want somebody to play with so 
much. Wait and see Mamma; you’ll love her, and 
perhaps she knows some lady who wants a maid. I 
suppose your mother wants to find a place for one, 
just as Mamma did when we went to Europe last 


LOOKING FOR A SITUATION 253 

year. Don’t you really think you’d like to come 
and see the rabbits ? ” 

I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we can’t,” interposed 
Daisy, firmly. “ We’ve left our — some people 
waiting for us on the road, and they might get wor- 
ried if we stay away too long.” 

It will only take a few minutes to see the 
rabbits,” their new friend urged, and Mamma will 
be back very soon. Do you think those people would 
mind waiting just a little longer? ” 

Dulcie wavered. The little girl was so cordial; 
it seemed almost rude to refuse her invitation. She 
glanced appealingly at Daisy. 

** I think we might stay just a few minutes,” 
Daisy agreed. She loved pets, and to possess rabbits 
had long been an unfulfilled dream. 

So the question was settled, and five minutes later 
three very eager little girls were bending lovingly 
over a family of soft, wriggling baby rabbits. 

** They’re the cunningest things I ever saw,” de- 
clared Daisy, pressing one downy mite to her cheek. 

I do wish Molly and Maud could see them.” 

Who are Molly and Maud ? ” inquired her new 
friend, with interest. 

Daisy started and flushed. In the interest of the 
moment she had quite forgotten the role of Mar- 
garet Smith. 

They are our two sisters,” she explained, with 
an apologetic glance at Dulcie. We all love rab- 


254 four girls of forty vrars.ago 

bits, but Grandma will never let us have any 
pets/^ 

“ You must bring them to see my rabbits,’’ her 
hostess said politely. I’ve got so many. I’d like 
to give you some, if your grandma would let you 
have them.” 

You are very kind,” said Dulcie, “ but I’m 
afraid we couldn’t take them. You see, we don’t 
expect to live at home any longer.” 

The brown eyes opened very wide, and their new 
acquaintance inquired in a tone of the utmost as- 
tonishment : 

Where are you going to live, then? ” 

We don’t know,” said Dulcie; that’s what we 
wanted to speak to your mother about. We are 
looking for a situation.” 

Their new friend gasped. 

“ But you’re not grown up ; you’re only little 
girls,” she faltered. “ Little girls only work if their 
mothers are very poor. You don’t look a bit like 
poor people.” 

We’re not exactly poor,” Dulcie explained, “ but 
there are — reasons why we don’t want to live at 
home any more, so we’ve come away to try to find 
a situation. We don’t mind working hard, and 
there are really a good many things we can do. 
We’ve made our own beds and dusted our rooms 
ever since Liz — I mean for quite a long time, and 
we can wash dishes, and cook a little, too. If we 


LOOKING FOR A SITUATION 255 

could have a cook-book, I think we would manage 
very well/' 

The look in the little stranger's eyes had changed 
from astonishment to admiration. 

“ I think you are very clever," she said. ‘‘ I wish 
I could do useful things like that, but I shouldn’t 
like to leave my home. I think I should die if I 
had to go away from Mamma and Papa." 

“ I'm sure you will never have to do it," Dulcie 
reassured her. ‘‘ You see, it's quite different with 
us. Our mamma is dead, and our papa— oh, well, 
we'd rather not talk about it, but it’s all very sad, 
and we don’t want to be burdens any longer. Let's 
talk some more about the rabbits." 

Their new friend nodded comprehendingly. 

I know how you feel," she said. “ I hate talk- 
ing about sad things, too. I don't like sad stories, 
either. Once Mamma read me about little Paul 
Dombey, and I cried so much I had a headache." 

I wish we had a mamma," said Daisy, with a 
sigh. Children are never burdens to their mothers. 
I think yours must be nice ; you talk so much about 
her." 

She's the loveliest lady in the world. She's so 
good that everybody loves her. Haven't you ever 
heard about her ? " 

‘‘ No, I don't think we have," Daisy admitted re- 
luctantly. You see, we don't know very many 
people. What's your mamma's name? " 


256 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


Mrs. Richard B. Thorne, and I am Barbara 
Muriel Thorne.’' 

“Oh, what a beautiful name!” cried Dulcie. 
“ I’ve read about Barbaras, but I never met one be- 
fore. I wish my name was Barbara, or else Gladys. 
Muriel is quite a book name, too.” 

“Yes, they are pretty names,” Barbara Muriel 
answered, with some pride. “ But Delia is rather 
a nice name, too,” she added, politely. 

“ I think it’s about the ugliest name I ever heard,’' 
said Dulcie. “ I can’t think what made me choose 
it.” 

Barbara looked rather puzzled. 

“ I didn’t know people ever chose their own 
names,” she said. “Are you Baptists ? ” 

“ Oh, no,” said Dulcie, blushing ; “ we are Episco- 
palians. What made you think we were Baptists ? ” 

“ Because Hannah said Baptists weren’t baptized 
till they were grown up, and I thought perhaps they 
chose their own names, instead of having them given 
to them, when they were babies.” 

Dulcie was beginning to feel rather uncomfort- 
able, but fortunately, at that moment, Daisy came to 
her rescue. 

“ Hark ! ” she exclaimed, eagerly ; “ I think I hear 
a carriage. Perhaps it’s Barbara’s mother.” 

Barbara ran to look, and returned in a moment 
with the joyful intelligence that it was Mamma 
coming home. 


LOOKING FOR A SITUATION 257 

“ She’s just driving round to the front door,” she 
said. ‘‘ I’ll run ahead, and tell her about you.” 
And away she flew, followed more slowly by her 
two companions. 

“ I — I feel just like running away,” faltered 
Daisy. “ Oh, Dulcie, let’s go. It all seems so 
very — queer.” 

“We can’t run away now,” said Dulcie, and her 
tone was decided, though her teeth were beginning 
to chatter. “ It wouldn’t be polite, and besides, I 
think perhaps Barbara’s mother may understand, 
and be kind to us.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


STEPMOTHERS 

A S the children approached the house they 
saw that a pony phaeton was standing by 
the front steps, out of which a lady had 
just alighted. She was speaking to the groom, who 
had run up from the stable to take the horse, but at 
the sound of Barbara’s voice she turned to greet her 
little daughter, and even at that first glimpse Dulcie 
and Daisy could see that she had a very sweet face. 

Mamma,” cried Barbara, reaching her mother’s 
side in a rather breathless condition, here are two 
little girls who want to see you. There names are 
Delia and Margaret Smith. The biggest one is 
Delia; she chose her name herself, and the littlest 
one is Margaret.” 

Mrs. Thorne greeted the visitors very kindly. 

I am glad Barbara has found some little 
friends,” she said. ‘‘ Suppose we all come into the 
house. It is rather warm, and I would like to take 
off my hat before doing anything else.” 

Her voice was so kind and cordial, and her smile 
so pleasant, that Dulcie and Daisy were both con- 
, scious of a sensation of decided relief. Still, the 
258 



“We’re — we’rk looking for a. situation.”— Page 259. 



STEPMOTHERS 


259 


situation remained an embarrassing one, for it was 
quite evident that Mrs. Thorne supposed them to be 
some little neighbors come to make a morning call. 
However, there was nothing to be done but to follow 
Barbara and her mother into the house, and then 
they found themselves in a cool, flower-scented 
room, and Mrs. Thorne was saying in her bright, 
friendly voice: 

I am sorry you had such a hot morning for your 
walk. I hope you did not have far to come.’' 

We — we don’t live here,” stammered Dulcie, her 
cheeks growing suddenly very hot. ‘'We came in 
the train, and walked up from the station.” 

“ You came on the train? ” Mrs. Thorne repeated, 
incredulously. “You don’t mean by yourselves?” 

“ Oh, yes,” said Dulcie. “ You see, we had to. 
We’re — we’re looking for a situation.” 

Mrs. Thorne gazed in growing bewilderment 
from one serious little face to the other. 

“A situation,” she gasped. “ Why, you are only 
children.” 

“ I’m twelve,” said Dulcie, rather tremulously, 
“ and Dais — I mean Margaret, is eleven. Of course 
we wouldn’t expect to be paid very much at first.” 

“ But I don’t understand. Why do you want to 
work at all? You are not poor children.” 

That was just what Barbara had said, and Dulcie 
felt her heart sink. How could they ever explain 
the situation without telling the whole story? 


26 o four girls of forty years ago 

'' WeVe gone away, because we don’t want to be 
burdens to our stepmother,” put in Daisy, coming to 
her sister’s relief. 

A shadow crossed Mrs. Thorne’s sweet face, and 
as if instinctively, she slipped an arm round Barbara, 
who was standing by her side. 

“ Don’t you love your stepmother ? ” she asked, 
gently. ‘‘ Isn’t she kind to you.^ ” 

We’ve never seen her,” Daisy explained. 
'' She’s only coming to-day. Papa married her in 
California, and we never knew anything about it 
till yesterday. We are sure she won’t want us, and 
we are very tired of being burdens to people, so we 
came away to earn our own livings.” 

Daisy paused abruptly, and two big tears rolled 
slowly down her cheeks. 

Mrs. Thome was really wonderful. She seemed 
to understand the whole situation at once, without 
asking another question. 

‘‘ You poor little chicks,” she said, and her voice 
was so kind that, instead of checking Daisy’s tears, 
it caused her to cry all the more. And then some- 
how, they were all on the sofa together, and Mrs. 
Thorne had one arm round Daisy, and the other 
round Dulcie — who had also begun to cry — and 
Barbara was looking on, with tears of sympathy in 
her own eyes. 

“We love our papa very much indeed,” sobbed 
Dulcie, “but we think perhaps he will be glad to 


STEPMOTHERS 


261 

have US go away, on account of the stepmother, you 
know. I promised Mamma before she died that I 
would always take care of the others, and step- 
mothers are so very cruel sometimes.” 

There, there, dear,” soothed Mrs. Thorne, 
don't try to talk any more till you feel better. I 
think I understand everything. You have made a 
foolish mistake, but it's going to be all right.” 

There was something wonderfully reassuring in 
that kind, cheerful voice, and in a few minutes the 
two little girls had dried their tears, and were be- 
ginning to feel almost cheerful themselves. But 
now a new difficulty arose; something that neither 
of them had ever thought of. In their absorption 
they had quite failed to notice that the hot sunshine 
had been suddenly obscured by a dark cloud, until 
suddenly the rumble of distant thunder fell upon 
their ears. Daisy was on her feet in a moment. 

‘‘ There's going to be a thunder-storm ! '' she ex- 
claimed. ‘‘We must go right after Molly and 
Maud. Maud hates thunder.” 

“ Who are Molly and Maud ? ” inquired Mrs. 
Thorne, and, as if in answer to her question, there 
was a sound of little feet on the piazza, and through 
the open window came an anxious voice. 

“ Dulcie, Daisy, where are you ? There’s a horrid 
thunder-storm coming up.” 

“They are our two little sisters,” explained 
Dulcie. “ We left them out on the road. We were 


262 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


afraid people wouldn’t take us if they saw how 
many there were. Would you mind very much if 
they came in, just till the shower is over? Maud is 
so afraid of thunder-storms.” 

“ Certainly not,” said Mrs. Thorne, who was be- 
ginning to look very much amused. “ Run and 
bring the little girls in, Barbara.” 

Away flew hospitable Barbara, closely followed 
by Dulcie and Daisy, and in another moment they 
were back again, accompanied by Molly and Maud, 
who both looked very red and uncomfortable. 

“ It was all Maud’s fault,” Molly was whispering 
apologetically to Dulcie. “ I wanted to wait, but the 
minute she heard the thunder she was frightened, 
and she cried so hard I had to let her come to find 
you.” 

It was beginning to thunder,” Maud was at the 
same moment explaining to the sympathetic Bar- 
bara. “ Dulcie and Daisy stayed away so long, and 
I was so thirsty. I thought I was going to like 
cake for breakfast, but I didn’t; it left such a funny 
taste afterwards.” 

“ Dulcie and Daisy,” repeated Barbara ; ‘‘ why, I 
thought their names were Delia and Margaret.” 

Maud looked blank, and Dulcie, blushing furi- 
ously, but still with a desperate attempt to keep up 
their assumed characters, hastened to explain. 

Dulcie and Daisy are our home names,” she 
said. ‘‘ Daisy’s real name is Margaret.” 


STEPMOTHERS 


263 


‘‘And your real name is Delia, I suppose,” said 
Mrs. Thorne, smiling; “Delia Smith, I think you 
said.” 

Dulcie was silent. She was a truthful child, and 
not even for the honor of the Winslow family could 
she bring herself to tell a deliberate lie. Mrs. 
Thorne seemed to understand, for she smiled again, 
and her voice was very kind. 

“ Barbara darling,” she said, “ suppose you take 
Molly and Maud into the dining-room, and get them 
each a glass of milk. Maud says she is thirsty, and 
cake is hardly a substantial breakfast. Ask Jane to 
boil some eggs, and warm some oatmeal, and we 
will all come in a few minutes. Now, my dear little 
girls,” she added in a graver tone, when the three 
younger children had left the room, “ I want you to 
tell me your real names, and where you live. I 
must let your family know where you are as soon 
as possible. They are probably frightened to death 
about you already.” 

Dulcie clasped her hands in despair, as she saw 
the last hope of carrying out her wonderful plan of 
independence fading from her grasp. But there 
was an air of gentle determination about Mrs. 
Thorne that convinced her of the uselessness of a 
refusal. She answered meekly: 

“ My name is Dulcie Winslow and my sister is 
really Margaret, but every one calls her Daisy. We 
live at Tarrytown with our grandmother, and ” 


264 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

'' You don’t mean to tell me you are old Dr. Wins- 
low’s grandchildren ! ” interrupted Mrs. Thorne, in 
a tone of genuine astonishment. 

Dulcie nodded, and Daisy asked timidly: 

Did you know our grandfather ? ” 

“ I used to see him often when I was a little girl. 
We were neighbors in New York, and his son Jim 
was a great friend of mine.” 

Why, that’s our papa! ” cried Dulcie, shame 
and disappointment alike forgotten in the excite- 
ment of this discovery. “ How wonderful to 
think you knew Papa. Perhaps you knew Mamma, 
too.” 

** No, I never saw your father after he went to 
college, but we were great friends as children. He 
was a very nice boy.” 

“ He’s the loveliest man in the world,” declared 
Daisy, with shining eyes. 

Mrs. Thorne smiled. 

'' Is he indeed? ” she said. ‘‘ One would hardly 
think you were so fond of him when you have been 
trying to run away from him.” 

Oh, we weren’t running away from Papa,” 
cried Dulcie, quite horrified at the suggestion. “We 
love him better than any one else in the world, and 
we were so happy when we knew he was coming 
home from China, but then we heard about the step- 
mother, and I thought — I was afraid ” Dulcie 

paused in hopeless confusion. 


STEPMOTHERS 


265 


We didn’t want to be incumbrances,” said Daisy. 
“Aunt Julia Chester said we were incumbrances to 
Grandma. Dulcie looked up the word in the dic- 
tionary, and it means the same thing as being a 
burden. Dulcie thought we might be able to work 
for our living, even if we were only little girls, and 
so 

“And so you ran away, like two very foolish chil- 
dren, and took your younger sisters with you. I 
suppose it never occurred to you how unhappy you 
would make your father.” 

At this awful suggestion both little girls began to 
cry. 

“ I — I thought he would be proud of us,” sobbed 
Dulcie, “ I wouldn’t make Papa unhappy for the 
whole world.” 

“ There, there, dear, don’t cry ; I knew you 
wouldn’t.” And Mrs. Thorne put a kind arm round 
the trembling child. “ You thought you were doing 
something very fine, and now you are going to do 
something much finer, by going home again, and 
showing your papa that you trust him, and feel sure 
he would not do anything to make you unhappy. 
As for the stepmother; all stepmothers are not 
wicked. There are many who love their step- 
children dearly. Perhaps your stepmother is long- 
ing to know you, and to make you love her. I 
doubt very much that she has ever thought of you 
as incumbrances. Now I think breakfast must be 


266 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 


ready, so dry your eyes, and we will join the others 
in the dining-room/' 

That was a wonderful morning; the children 
never forgot it To Molly and Maud it was a 
morning of pure delight, and even their elder sis- 
ters, in spite of several causes for anxiety, could 
not help enjoying themselves, whenever they forgot 
to think about the future. Mrs. Thorne was very 
kind to them all, and Barbara proved a delightful 
little hostess. The shower was a very slight one, 
and by the time they had finished breakfast, the sun 
was shining once more. Mrs. Thome went out in 
the pony phaeton again, and Dulcie and Daisy had 
an uncomfortable conviction that her errand was in 
some way connected with their affairs. Nothing, 
however, was said about their going home at once, 
and Barbara took them all out to inspect the rabbits. 
When it grew too hot in the sun, they came indoors 
again, and Barbara took them up to her nursery — a 
room so full of beautiful toys that Molly and Maud 
felt as if suddenly transported to fairyland. 

'‘What do you suppose is going to happen?" 
Daisy whispered to Dulcie, on the way up-stairs. 
“Are we to stay here till somebody comes to take 
us home? " 

“ I don't know," Dulcie answered mournfully ; 
“ Mrs. Thorne is attending to everything, and I 
don’t like to ask her any questions. The thing I’m 
most afraid of is that Grandma may come for us 


STEPMOTHERS 26 / 

herself. It would be dreadful to have to go all the 
way home in the train with Grandma.” 

At one o’clock Mrs. Thorne called them all dbwn 
to luncheon, and it was just as they were finishing 
that meal that the telegram arrived. The waitress 
brought it in on a tray, and handed it to Mrs. 
Thorne, who opened it, and read aloud: 

“ Please send children home by next ^rain. They 
will be met at the station.” 

There was a moment of dead silence, and then 
Mrs. Thorne said quietly: 

“ The telegram is from your grandmother, in an- 
swer to one I sent her this morning.” 

'‘We thought it was,” said Dulcie, meekly. 
" How soon does the next train go? ” 

Mrs. Thorne left the room to consult a time-table, 
and Barbara began to express her entire disapproval 
of the whole affair. 

" I don’t see why you can’t stay,” she protested ; 
“ there’s plenty of room. It would be so nice to 
have you stay all summer, and we could have such 
fun all together. Wouldn’t you like to stay ? ” . 

" It would be lovely,” said Dulcie, politely, " but 
your mother doesn’t think it would be right. She is 
afraid Papa wouldn’t like it.” 

" Our papa is coming home to-day,” chimed in 
Molly, “ and we haven’t seen him for more than a 
year.” 


268 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

** Papas are pretty nice,” Barbara admitted, “ but 
of course they’re not like mammas. I don’t think 
I could possibly leave Mamma, even to go to the 
nicest place in the world. Mamma says perhaps 
you can come to see us again some day. I’m so 
glad your name isn’t Delia Smith, Dulcie; Dulcie 
Winslow is ever so much prettier, and I think I like 
Daisy better than Margaret, too. I suppose your 
papa would-be disappointed if you were away when 
he came. Haven’t you any mamma ? ” 

‘‘ No,” said Dulcie, with a sigh; ‘‘ she died when 
we were very little. I am the only one who can 
remember her.” 

Barbara looked interested. 

“ My first mamma died when I was a little baby,” 
she said ; I can’t remember her a bit.” 

The four little Winslows nearly dropped their 
spoons into the ice-cream, so great was their aston- 
ishment at this amazing announcement. 

‘‘ Your — your what? ” gasped Dulcie. 

** My first mamma,” repeated Barbara, calmly. 
‘‘ I’ve got her picture on my bureau, and I always 
kiss her good-night. Mamma says she loved me 
very much, but I’m sure she loves me just as much 
herself, because she says I’m the preciousest thing 
in the world.” 

At that moment Mrs. Thorne returned, with a 
time-table in her hand. 

‘‘The next down train leaves here in half an 


STEPMOTHERS 


269 


hour,” she said ; “ I’m afraid we shall have to hurry 
a little. I have sent word to James to harness the 
ponies, and will drive you to the station myself.” 

“Mrs. Thorne,” said Dulcie, regarding her 
hostess with big, astonished eyes, “ I hope it isn’t 
a rude question, but I’ve got to ask. Are you — are 
you Barbara’s stepmother ? ” 

Mrs. Thorne laughed merrily. 

“ So you have found out,” she said. “ Yes, I am, 
but that doesn’t make any difference in our love for 
each other, does it, Barbara darling ? ” Atid she 
stooped to kiss the little girl, who responded by 
flinging both arms round her neck. 

“No, indeed it doesn’t,” she cried, heartily. “ I 
wouldn’t change you for all the mammas in the 
world.” 

“And we thought all stepmothers were wicked 
and cruel,” said Dulcie, slowly. “O dear! I’m 
afraid we’ve been dreadfully silly, and I guess we’d 
better go home just as soon as we possibly can.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A HOME-COMING 

Y OU are really, without exception, the worst- 
j behaved children I have ever heard of in 
my life. I cannot think of any punish- 
ment severe enough for what you deserve.’* 

Grandma spoke in a tone of awful sternness, and 
her expression was, if possible, even sterner than 
her voice. The four little culprits stood before her 
in a row, and trembled, but nobody could think of 
anything to say. It was half-past three, and the 
children had reached home five minutes earlier, and 
been sent straight up to Grandma’s room by Mary, 
in obedience to the orders she had received. It was 
Mary who had met the party at the station, and on 
the way home had told them of the excitement and 
consternation their disappearance had caused. 

'' I never saw the old lady so upset before,” she 
declared. “ She most took Bridget’s and my head 
off, and goodness knows we hadn’t anything to do 
with it. She read that letter you left on the bureau, 
and she thought we’d told you the news about the 
stepmother, that was to be kept a secret till your pa 
270 


A HOME-COMING 


2yi 


came home. She telegraphed to Miss Kate to come 
home, and she was ’most wild with fright about you, 
till that lady’s message came.” 

It was all very dreadful, and yet there was a cer- 
tain thrill in the knowledge that Grandma had really 
been worried about them. 

“ I didn’t think she’d care much what became of 
us,” Dulcie had whispered to Daisy, and Daisy had 
answered, with her usual cheerfulness: 

“ It’s rather nice to know she does care just a 
little bit, after all.” 

And now they were facing Grandma’s wrath, and 
awaiting the punishment which they felt sure was to 
follow. 

'' I cannot conceive how such an absurd idea ever 
entered any of your heads,” Mrs. Winslow went on, 
eyeing them over her spectacles. For children in 
your position even to contemplate such a plan is 
outrageous. A Winslow taking a situation like an 
Irish servant girl. It is horrible ! ” And the aris- 
tocratic old lady actually shuddered. 

Dulcie hung her head; her cheeks were crimson. 

“ It was all my fault,” she said, humbly ; “I 
thought of it first, and the others didn’t want to do 
it at all.” 

I was quite sure you were the ringleader,” re- 
turned Grandma, coldly. “ You generally are, 
where any mischief is concerned. But Daisy and 
Molly are both old enough to know better. Maud is 


272 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

still too young to be expected to have judgment of 
any kind.’* 

It was then that Maud did what Dulcie after- 
wards described as a noble thing.” She had been 
trying to hide behind Daisy, but at Grandma’s last 
words she suddenly stepped forward and spoke. 

“If the others are going to be punished,” she said, 
in a clear, decided little voice, “ I guess you’d better 
punish me, too. I knew it was naughty to eat cake 
for breakfast, and I did it even when Daisy told me 
not to.” 

There was a little gasp of admiration from the 
three older children, and even Grandma’s stern face 
relaxed into something like a grim smile. 

“ I am glad to see that you are capable of real- 
izing how naughty you have been,” she said. “ I 
have had a terrible morning, but thank Heaven, my 
responsibility is nearly at an end. Your father ar- 
rives this afternoon, and it will be his duty to decide 
upon what punishment you are to receive.” 

“ Grandma,” cried Dulcie, scarcely able to be- 
lieve her ears, “ aren’t you going to punish us, 
then ? ” 

“ Under ordinary circumstances I should certainly 
punish you all severely,” Mrs. Winslow answered, 
“but with your father’s return my guardianship 
over you ceases. I wish I could give him a better 
account of your behavior during his absence, but 
perhaps I am getting too old to deal with children. 


A HOME-COMING 2/3 

Let us hope that your stepmother may have better 
success than I have had.” 

‘‘ I’m very sorry, Grandma,” murmured conscien- 
tious Daisy, the tears of mortification starting to her 
eyes. "‘We really did want to be good, and we 
hated being burdens.” 

“ Well, we won’t say any more about it,” inter- 
rupted Grandma, rather hurriedly. “ I dare say 
you have been no worse than the majority of chil- 
dren, except for your absurd behavior of this morn- 
ing, which is really beyond the comprehension of 
any sane person. Now go to your room and change 
your dresses. You none of you look fit to be seen, 
and I wish you to be on the piazza to greet your 
father and his wife. I have received another tele- 
gram saying they will arrive by the five-ten.” 

None of the four had dreamed of getting off so 
easily, and yet as they climbed the stairs to their own 
room, they were all very silent. 

“ It’s rather nice to get back, isn’t it ? ” remarked 
Molly, a little unsteadily, glancing about the familiar 
bedroom, as Dulcie set down the valise and began 
removing the various articles she had packed so 
proudly only that morning. 

“ It seems as if we’d been away for a long time,” 
said Maud. “ I didn’t know one day could be so 
long. Perhaps it’s because we got up so early. I 
think I’m getting a little sleepy.” 

Lie down and rest,” Daisy suggested. “ It isn’t 


274 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

time to dress yet, and perhaps you can get a little 
nap/' 

Maud promptly curled herself up on the bed she 
and Molly shared, and in five minutes had fallen 
fast asleep. But none of the others felt at all inclined 
to follow her example. They were all far too much 
excited to sleep. They sat close together, and 
talked in low, subdued voices, so as not to disturb 
Maud. 

'' There's one thing we can be thankful for," said 
Daisy. “ We've found out that stepmothers aren't 
all bad, and that’s a great relief. I don’t believe 
Mrs. Thorne ever thought Barbara a burden." 

No, I don’t believe she did," Dulcie agreed, but 
then Barbara was only three when Mrs. Thorne 
married her father, and you can’t help loving a 
cunning little girl of three, but it will be quite dif- 
ferent with us. Grandma will be sure to tell her 
how horrid we are, and then she’ll begin to hate us." 

She won’t hate us if she’s anything like Mrs. 
Thorne," said Daisy, with conviction. “ Anyhow, 
Papa loves us, and he won’t say we’re horrid. Why 
shouldn’t she believe him just as well as Grandma? ’’ 

‘‘ Perhaps he’ll think we’ve grown worse since he 
went away," said Dulcie, mournfully, but Daisy re- 
fused to listen to any such gloomy possibilities. 

Mrs. Thorne said she was sure Papa wouldn’t 
marry anybody who wasn’t going to love us," she 
maintained, and I’m not going to worry any more 



Do WE SAY * How DO YOU DO, STEPMOTHER ? ^ Page 275. 











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A HOME-COMING 


275 


than I can help. Now let’s think about dressing up. 
I’m going to curl Maud’s hair the way Lizzie used 
to do it, and Molly must wear her white muslin with 
pink ribbons.” 

As the clock on the stairs struck five, the four 
little girls, all dressed in their best, stepped out on 
the piazza, and seated themselves in a solemn row 
to await the arrival of the station hack. They were 
all feeling very nervous, even Daisy, and nobody felt 
much like talking. Grandma was still in her room, 
and they had the piazza to themselves. 

“ Shall we have to kiss the stepmother ? ” Maud 
inquired, anxiously. 

“ It will depend on whether she wants to kiss us 
or not,” answered Dulcie. '' We shall kiss Papa 
first, of course, and then we’ll see what she wants 
to do.” 

** Do we say ‘ How do you do, stepmother ? ’ ” 
Maud wanted to know. 

Dulcie shook her head. 

‘‘ I don’t think that would do,” she said, doubt- 
fully. ‘‘ It doesn’t sound exactly polite.” 

“ Barbara calls Mrs. Thorne ‘ Mamma,’ ” said 
Molly. Do you think she will want us to call her 
Mamma ? ” 

I hope not,” said Dulcie, reddening. “ I don’t 
want to call anybody Mamma except our own dear 
mamma in Heaven.” 

“ Barbara talked about her first mamma,” Daisy 


276 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

reminded them. “ I think we’d better let Papa de- 
cide what we are to call her. He’s sure to know 
what is right,” she finished, with the comforting 
conviction that Papa always knew best about every- 
thing. 

Just then the whistle of an approaching train fell 
upon their ears, and Grandma, in her best black silk, 
came out onto the piazza. 

It was only a quarter of a mile to the station, and 
in the silence that followed they could hear the 
stopping of the train, and then the puffing of the 
engine as it moved on again. Grandma sat in a 
rocking-chair and folded her hands in her lap. She 
didn’t look in the least excited, not even ruffled. 
As for the four little girls, their hearts were beating 
so fast they could scarcely breathe. Half-uncon- 
sciously Dulcie slipped her hand into Daisy’s, and 
held it tight. There followed five minutes of breath- 
less suspense, and then came the sound of approach- 
ing wheels. In another moment the station hack 
had turned in at the gate, and drawn up before the 
front steps. 

‘‘Papa, dear, dear Papa!” In the first joyful 
moment everything else in the world was forgotten, 
and four pairs of arms were held out, as four little 
figures rushed forward to meet the tall, smiling gen- 
tleman, who had sprung from the carriage, and 
was bounding up the steps. 

“ Well, chicks, here I am ! ” cried Mr. Winslow, 


A HOME-COMING 


277 

kissing them all round, “ glad to see me, eh? Not 
half as glad as I am to see you all, Fll be bound. 
How you have grown, Dulcie. How well you are 
looking, Daisy. Can these two big girls really be 
my babies, Molly and Maud ? And here's Grandma, 
too." And he released himself from the children’s 
clinging arms, and went forward to greet his step- 
mother. 

And now there was another joyful cry, but this 
time it was mingled with astonishment. 

‘‘ Miss Leslie, oh. Miss Leslie, we’re so glad to 
see you! We never knew you were coming, too.’’ 
And the pretty young lady, who had followed Mr. 
Winslow up the steps, suddenly found herself be- 
ing violently hugged by four very excited little 
girls. 

Where’s Uncle Stephen ? ’’ inquired Daisy, who 
was the first to recover from the surprise. ‘‘ Didn’t 
Uncle Stephen come, too ? ’’ 

Miss Leslie laughed and blushed. 

‘‘ No, dear," she said, “ he didn’t come this time, 
but he sent a great deal of love to you all, and hopes 
to see you when he comes East next winter.” 

“ But — but, isn’t he going to — aren’t you ’’ 

Daisy paused in utter bewilderment. If Miss Leslie 
were not going to marry Uncle Stephen, then why 
had she come ? And, more astonishing still, where, 
oh, where was the dreaded stepmother ? She 
glanced in the direction of the hack, in quest of a 


278 FOUR GIRLS OF FORTY YEARS AGO 

third occupant, but the only other person to be seen 
was the driver, who had sprung down from his seat 
and was lifting out the bags. 

In the meantime Maud was giving Miss Leslie an 
important bit of news. 

We're making you some wedding presents," she 
announced, giving the visitor's hand an affectionate 
squeeze. “ I won't tell you what they are, because 
they're going to be a surprise." 

Mr. Winslow caught the words, and turned 
anxiously to his mother. 

What does she mean?" he inquired, sharply. 

They haven't been told, have they ? " 

“ I am sorry to say they have," Mrs. Winslow 
answered. It was not my fault. I have said 
nothing, in accordance with your request, and neither 
has Kate. All the trouble has come through that 
meddlesome gossip, Lizzie. I always told you she 
was not the proper person to have the care of chil- 
dren, but you would never listen." 

Mr. Winslow looked annoyed, but before he could 
speak, Molly put into words the question that had 
been filling all their minds. 

Where is she ? " she demanded, looking in as- 
tonishment from one face to another. 

** Where is who, dear ? ” Miss Leslie asked, gently. 

“Why, the stepmother," said Molly. “Lizzie 
said Papa was bringing her home." 

Miss Leslie laughed. 


A HOME-COMING 2/9 

“ I am the stepmother/* she said, and stooped to 
kiss the astonished Molly as she spoke. 

It was long past the children’s bedtime, as 
Grandma had several times reminded them, but 
somehow nobody had seemed to hear, and at last 
Grandma had gone indoors, in disgust, leaving the 
rest of the Winslow family on the piazza. They 
were a very happy party. Dulcie and Daisy each 
occupied an arm of their father’s chair, Molly sat 
on his knee, and Maud was comfortably ensconced 
in the lap of the ‘‘ stepmother ” ! 

“ It’s been the most wonderful day we ever had 
in our lives,” said Daisy, with a little sigh of utter 
content. “ It began pretty badly, but the end was 
beautiful.” 

** I shall never, never again try to imitate book 
people,” declared Dulcie. “ Things never happen the 
way you expect them to. I ought to have found it 
out the day we tried to find ‘ the stolen child,’ but I 
went right on, and did another silly thing, that was 
a great deal worse. Oh, Papa dear, are you quite 
sure you don’t think I ought to be punished? It 
really was all my fault, you know.” 

Mr. Winslow smiled and patted her cheek. 

“ I think we will let the punishment go this once,” 
he said, glancing at his wife. Don’t you agree 
with me, Florence ? ” 

I certainly do,” the stepmother answered. 


28 o jfour girls of forty years ago 


heartily. “All is well that ends well, you know, and 
I don’t believe they will try looking for situations 
again.” 

“ No, indeed, we won’t,” promised Dulcie. “ Oh, 
Mamma, if we had only known it was going to be 
you, we should have been so happy ! ” 

“ You don’t think I am going to be a cruel step- 
mother, then? ” Mrs. Winslow said, smiling. 

“ I don’t believe you could be cruel, even if you 
tried,” Dulcie declared, and Daisy added, softly: 

“ We loved you the first time we saw you, and 
we’ve been loving you ever since. We were so glad 
when we thought you were going to marry Uncle 
Stephen, but to have you for our own mamma is 
the most beautiful thing that could possibly happen.” 

There were tears in Mrs. Winslow’s eyes, and she 
drew Daisy to her side and kissed her. 

“ You haven’t loved me one bit more than I have 
loved you,” she said, a little unsteadily. “ I have 
been longing for you all ever since that afternoon 
last January, and, oh, I do hope God will help me 
to be a real mother to you.” 

They were all silent for a moment after that. It 
was very beautiful out there in the moonlight, and 
nobody felt like speaking. At last Molly broke the 
silence. 

“ Do you really mean it ? ” she questioned, anx- 
iously. “You’re not just saying it to be polite, 
are you? ” 


A HOME-COMING 


281 

“ Mean what, dear ? ’’ Mrs. Winslow asked. 

“ That about wanting us ever since last winter ? 

“ Indeed I do mean it,” her stepmother answered, 
and there was a ring of sincerity in her voice that 
banished the children’s last lingering doubt. “ I 
have never wanted anything quite so much in my 
life. Why, Molly darling, I wanted you even be- 
fore I ever saw you.” 

“ Why, then,” cried Dulcie, with sparkling eyes, 

it’s all right, children. We know Papa wants us, 
and if Mamma does, too, why — why, don’t you 
see — oh, it’s so beautiful! We won’t be burdens or 
incumbrances any more I ” 


The End 






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;a ''>7 






Only Dolile 


By Nina Rhoades Illustrated by Bertha Davidsois 
Square i2mo Cloth 

T his is a brightly written story of a girl of 
twelve, who, when the mystery of her birth 
is solved, like Cinderella, passes from drudgery to 
better circumstances, ihere is nothing strained 
or unnatural at any point. All descriptions or 
portrayals of character are life-like, and the 
book has an indescribable appealing quality 
which wins sympathy and secures success. 

“It is delightful reading at all times ." — Cedar 
Rapids {la.) Republican. 

“ It is well written, the story runs smoothly, the idea 
is good, and it is handled with ability .” — Chicago 
Journal. 

The Little Girl Next Door 

By Nina Rhoades. Large i2mo 
by Bertha Davidson 

A DELIGHTFUL story of true and genuine friendship between an 
impulsive little girl in a fineT>Jew York home and a little blind girl 
in an apartment next door. The little girl’s determination to cultivate 
the acquaintance, begun out of the window' during a rainy day, triumphs 
over the barriers of caste, and the little blind girl proves to be in every 
way a worthy companion. Later a mystery of birth is cleared up, and the 
little blind girl proves to be of gentle birth as well as of gentle manners. 

Winifred’s Neighbors 

By Nina Rhoades Illustrated 
by Bertha G. Davidson Large 
i2mo Cloth 

L ittle Winifred’s efforts to find some 
children of w'hom she reads in a book 
lead to the acquaintance of a neighbor 
of the same name, and this acquaintance 
proves of the greatest importance to Winifred’s 
own family. Through it all she is just such a 
little girl as other girls ought to know, and 
the story will hold the interest of all ages. 


For sale by all booksellers., or sent postpaid on receipt 
of price by the publishers, 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.. BOSTON 





The Children on the Top Fl oor 

By Nina Rhoades Large 12 mo 
Cloth Illustrated by Bertha 
Davidson 

I N this book little Winifred Hamilton, the 
child heroine of “Winifred’s Neighbors,” 
reappears, living in the second of the four 
stories of a New York apartment house. On 
the top floor are two very interesting children, 

Betty, a little older than Winifred, who is now 
ten, and Jack, a brave little cripple, who is a 
year younger. In the end comes a glad re- 
union, and also other good fortune for crippled 
Jack, and Winifred’s kind little heart has once 
more indirectly caused great happiness to others. 

How Barbara Kept Her Promise 

By Nina Rhoades Large i2mo Cloth Illustrated 
by Bertha Davidson 

T WO orphan sisters, Barbara, aged twelve, and little Hazel, who is 
“only eight,” are sent from their early home in London to their 
mother’s family in New York. Faithful Barbara has promised her father 
that she will take care of pretty, petted, mischievous Hazel, and how she 
tries to do this, even in the face of great difficulties, forms the story which 
has the happy ending which Miss Rhoades wisely gives to all her stories. 

Little Miss Rosa mond 

By Nina Rhoades Illus- 
trated by Bertha G. Davidson 
Large 12 mo 

R osamond lives in Richmond, Va., 
with her big brother, who cannot 
give her all the comfort that she needs in 
the trying hot weather, and she goes to the 
seaside cottage of an uncle whose home 
is in New York. Here she meets Gladys 
and Joy, so well known in a previous 
book, “The Little Girl Next Door,” and 
after some complications are straightened 
out, bringing Rosamond’s honesty and 
kindness of heart into prominence, all are made very happy. 




For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt 
of price by the publishers 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 


** Brick House Books'* 

By N1.\A RhOADBS 

Cloth l2mo lEastf-3.ted 


Priscilla of the 

Doll Shop 

'T^HE Brick House Books,” as they are 
called from their well-known cover de- 
signs, are eagerly sought by children all over 
the country. There are three good stories in 
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say which little girls, and boys, too, for that 
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Brave Little Peggy 

P EGGY comes from California to New Jersey to live with a brother and 
sister whom she has not known since very early childhood. She is so 
democratic in her social ideas that many amusing scenes occur, and it is 
hard for her to understand many things that she must learn. But her good 
heart carries her through, and her conscientiousness and moral courage 
win affection and happiness. 

The Other Sylvia 

U' IGHT-year-old Sylvia learns that girls who 
are “ Kings’ Daughters ” pledge themselves 
to some kind act or service, and that one little 
girl named Mary has taken it upon herself to be 
helpful to all the Marys of her acquaintance. 
This is such an interesting way of doing good that 
she adopts it in spite of her unusual name, and 
really finds not only “ the other Sylvia,” but great 
happiness. 


For sale by ali bookseltera or seat postpaid on receipt oS 
price by the publlsbers 

LOTHROP. LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 





DOROTHY BROWN 

By NINA RHOADES 

Illustrated by Elizabeth Withington Large 12mo 


T his is considerably longer than the otht^ 
books by this favorite writer, and with a 
more elaborate plot, but it has the same win- 
some quality throughout. It introduces the 
heroine in New York as a little girl of eight, 
but soon passes over six years and finds her at 
a select family boarding school in Connecticut. 
An important part of the story also takes place 
at the Profile House in the White Mountains. 
The charm of school-girl friendship is finely 
brought out, and the kindness of heart, good 
sense and good taste which find constant ex- 
pression in the books by Miss Rhoades do not 
Jack for characters to show these best of 
qualities by their lives. Other less admirable 
persons of course appear to furnish the alluring mystery, which is not 
all cleared up until the very last. 

“There will be no better book vhan this to put into the hands of a girl in 
her teens and none that will be better appreciated by her .” — Kennebec Journal 

MARION’S VACATION 

By NINA RHOADES 
Illustrated by Bertha Q. Davidson 1 2mo 
'^HIS book is for the older girls, Marion 
* being thirteen. She has for ten years 
enjoyed a luxurious home in New York with 
the kind lady who feels that the time has now 
come for this aristocratic though lovable little 
miss to know her own nearest kindred, who 
are humble but most excellent farming people 
in a pretty Vermont village. Thither Marion 
is sent for a summer, which proves to be a 
most important one to her in all its lessons. 

** More wholesome reading for half grown girls 
It would be hard to find; some of the same lessons 
that proved so helpful in that classic of the last 
eneration ‘An Old Fashioned Girl’ are brought 
orae to the youthful readers of this sweet and 
sensible story .” — Milwaukee Kree Press, 


For sale by ail booksellers, or sent postpaid on reca^lpt erf 
price by the publishers 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., Boston 




TOP-OF-THE -WORLD STORIES 

Translated from the ScandinaTian Languages 

By EMILIE POULSSON and LAURA POULSSON 

Illustrated in \wo colors by Florence Liley Young 

'T^HESE stories of magic and adven- 
ture come from the countries 
the “top of the world,'- and wiR 
transport thither in fancy the children 
who read this unusual book. They 
tell of Lapps and reindeer (even a 
golden-horned reindeer 1 ) , of prince 
and herd-boy, of knights and wolves 
and trolls, of a boy who could be 
hungry and merry at the same time — 
of all these and more besides ! Miss Poulsson’s numerous 
and long visits to Norway, her father’s land, and the fact that 
she is an experienced writer for children are doubtless the 
reasons why her translations are sympathetic and skilful, and 
yet entirely adapted to give wholesome pleasure to the young 
public that she knows so well. 

“In these stories are the elements of wonder and magic and adventure 
that furnish the thrill so much appreciated by boys and girls ten or twelve 
years of agec An aristocratic book — one that every young person will be 
perpetually proud of.“ — LookotU^ Cincinnati ^ O. 

“In this book the children are transported to the land they .ove best, 
the laud of magic, of the fairies and all kinds of wonderful rtappenings. 
It is one of the best fairy story books ever published.” — Argus- Leader, 
Sioux Fallsy S, D. 

For safe by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt 
of price by the publishers 

Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 



Boston 


YULE-TIDE IN MANY LANDS 

By MARY P. PRINGLE and CLARA A. URANN 

Fully illustrated, and decorated 
12mo Cloth Price, $1.50 

T he varying forms of Christmas ob- 
servance at different times and in 
different lands are entertain’ngly shown 
by one trained in choosing and presents 
ing the best to younger readers. The 
symbolism, good cheer, and sentiment 
of the grandest of holidays are shown 
as they appeal in similar fashion to those 
whose lives seem so widely diverse. The 
first chapter tells of the Yule-Tide of the 
Ancients, and the eight succeeding chapters deal respectively 
with the observance of Christmas and New Year’s, making 
up the time of ‘‘Yule,” or the turning of the sun, in England, 
Germany, Scandinavia, Russia, France, Italy, Spain, and 
America. The space devoted to each country has at leas 
one good illustration. 

“The descriptions as presented in this well-prepared volume make 
interesting reading for all who love to come in loving contact with others 
in their high and pure enjoyments.” — Her aid- Presbyter^ Cincinnati. 

'‘Thev/ay Yule-Tide was and is celebrated is told in a simple and 
instructive way, and the narrative is enriched by appropriate poems and 
excellent illustrations.” — Cleveland Plain Dealer. 

“It is written for young people and Is bound to interest them for the 
subject is a universal one.” — American Church Sunday School Magazine. 


For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt 
of price by the pubUsbera 

Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 



Boston 


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